


Eye of the Beholder

by Kira_Dattei



Series: The Deva Chronicles Universe [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, BAMF Stiles, Blind Stiles Stilinski, Characters Have Magic Instead, Developing Relationship, Don't Have to Know Canon, Everyone is BAMF, M/M, Magic, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-09-19 10:58:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 92,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17000283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kira_Dattei/pseuds/Kira_Dattei
Summary: Core: a kernel of power that grants the person it awakens within abilities.Oni: people who use the abilities they gain from their cores to harm others.Devas: an organization of people who fight the Oni and protect civilians.Derek's latest assignment as a Deva comes in the form of protecting one Stiles Stilinski. He may not know why Stiles was held hostage for over a year by Oni, but he does know that there's something different about him and he will do his job. He finds out quickly that doing his job will be harder than he gave it credit for, if only because Stiles seems to be a force of nature no one can know how to handle.Reading other fics in the series not necessary for understanding.





	1. Unfamiliar Face

**Author's Note:**

> Hello there.  
> And here in my second jump into the Teen Wolf fandom is these guy's feature fic in the crossover world series of fics I'm working on. I am two fics in and have plenty more to come, which will include these guys as I get further into it.  
> Even though this is not the first fic in the series, reading the first one is not required to know what's going on here, though I'm of course not discouraging checking that one out.  
> A glossary for the fic has been added to the End Notes because a commenter was awesome in suggesting it. ^_^  
> I hope you enjoy!

“Who’s that?” Derek asked, watching as the young man he didn’t know was led across the main floor of operations by Boyd. Civilians weren’t usually allowed in this area of the building, there being too much sensitive information always in sight. And the stranger definitely wasn’t a Deva and didn’t have a badge declaring him to be with the U.E.A.

“Who’s what?” Scott responded distractedly, not even taking his eyes off his computer to see what Derek was talking about. Derek wasn’t too surprised since he knew Scott was working on his report from the last mission and he hated paperwork, like they all did. When he did finally look over, he gave a thoughtful hum and then went right back to his work. “The guy with Boyd? Don’t know. Why don’t you go ask him?” Scott worked for a few seconds more before looking back to Derek, who figured it had taken a little extra time for him actually process the exchange. The guy could be a bit of an airhead sometimes, especially if he was trying to split his attention. “It’s weird that they didn’t let you know there was going to be a civilian coming through.”

Derek grunted acknowledgement: civilians who got involved with missions were brought through sometimes, but he hadn’t heard about one today. As it was, many of the Devas at desks throughout the room were noticing the one who didn’t belong and were beginning to look on guard.

Not that the stranger even seemed to notice as he just kept in step with Boyd, following two steps behind.

He stood quite a bit shorter than Boyd – that wasn’t unusual though, considering the guy’s size – so was about average height, with what was likely a trim build, if not a bit on the skinny side. It was hard to tell for sure with the loose-fitting dark hoodie he wore. And the dark color of the hoodie itself combined with the black hair made him seem like he was bit more pale than was healthy, but Derek figured it wasn’t too bad. He couldn’t tell much else from this distance and angle, even with his sharp senses.

“You could always go ask instead of glaring at him like he’s the latest Oni,” Scott said and Derek turned a glare to him instead. “Yeah, that glare. It makes people not like you as much. It won’t kill you to talk to another human being, you know. Hell, you don’t even have to talk to him, just ask Boyd. You can even file it in your brain as part of your job so it wouldn’t even be out of character. No one would ever know you were just curious.”

Despite Scott’s ramblings, he was holding his composure better than he usually did against a glare from Derek.

“So could you.”

“Sure, I could, but I’m not the one who asked. You’re the curious one this time around.”

Derek was about to retort, give Scott incentive to be curious enough to pull away from his report and get answers for them – Derek may have more authority than most of the Devas in the division currently, but there were plenty of things he didn’t need to know – when a loud thud and a string of muttered profanity got the attention  of everyone in the room.

Derek looked over to where the stranger was curled over and rubbing at his hip, his other hand leaning against the desk, having obviously run into the edge. A few people around the room were snickering at a show of clumsiness they didn’t see very often. They were Devas, after all, and part of being elite fighters tasked with defending everyone against Oni meant they didn’t make a habit of being clumsy. Boyd had stopped and turned around, his expression flat as usual, but Derek was familiar enough with the man to know he was just better about concealing his emotions.

It was only Derek’s enhanced hearing that allowed him to catch the other Deva’s words as he spoke to the stranger. “You said you could handle it.”

“Yeah, well you said it didn’t echo in here and most of the people were gone, that the room would be mostly empty. So, really, this bruise I can literally feel happening on my hip is all your fault. You should feel guilty for your failure to perform your duties,” the young man – Derek was hard pressed to think of him like that since he doubted the stranger had broke eighteen years yet – replied in an irritated tone, but actually kept a low volume through what was obviously venting.

Boyd, for his part, gave a small grin at that before he stepped a bit closer. “Then do you need help?”

“No, I don’t need help. I just need you to make more noise than the rest of the people walking around here. You know, take a break from being an all-cool Deva and be a normal noisy human being for a change.”

That was a strange thing to say, for both of them, Derek noted. Even as bad as he was at socialization, he could see that. He thought that as he watched Boyd reach out and grasp the guy’s bicep and give a slight pull before letting go and leading the way again, heading back toward their holding rooms.

Derek looked back to Scott, who was watching him. He glanced back to where the two had turned out of sight, then looked back to Derek. He gave it a few seconds before he rolled his eyes and turned in his seat to face Derek completely.

“Would you just go? If you aren’t supposed to know, they’ll tell you to mind your own business. I doubt they will with you having seniority over most of us.” Derek raised an eyebrow. “Hey, just because you didn’t know about something right off doesn’t mean you won’t be brought in the loop later. Things happen fast sometimes and the official channels work slower than people, especially us. Why am I having to tell you that when you’ve been a Deva longer?”

Mostly because Derek didn’t want to outright admit how genuinely curious he was and didn’t want to appear unprofessional. Scott, who he’d only known for about six months now, likely didn’t pick up on that much but noticed something; he had good instincts.

Scott still got another dark look for calling Derek out on it though, to which he rolled his eyes with a sigh and went back to his report. “Maybe try and cut back on the growly personality. If he’s here for protective custody, he might think he’s safer on the street once he sees you.”

Well, Scott sure was in a confident mood to keep taking shots at him like this. That or he’d just really gotten used to Derek’s gruff nature.

But, annoying comments aside, Scott was right and Derek had every right to ask what was going on. That there hadn’t been anyone set to come into their custody – protective or restrained – didn’t mean much in their line of work: things changed in the field all the time. Oni were found every day and so were their victims.

Derek grabbed his ID off his desk, clipping it on one of his belt loops just in case he needed it. He followed the same path Boyd had let the stranger down, turning the corner and making his way down the hall of doors.

This area was a blend of offices, storage, and holding rooms. At the end of the hall was the elevators and stairs usually used to bring people to this level so they didn’t cut through the main room, making it even more curious that Boyd hadn’t taken him through that way. The only other people who were given some measure of freedom to move around that floor were familiar U.E.A. agents, so maybe there was some involvement from them at some point in this guy showing up there today.

The not knowing was getting horribly irritating, which wasn’t helped by the realization that he had no idea where Boyd had taken the guy now and all the rooms were soundproofed, so Derek couldn’t even use his sharpened hearing to figure it out.

He was resigned to accessing surveillance on each of the rooms through the individual panels when one of the doors opened near the end of the hall – that one leading to one of the more comfortable holding rooms- and Boyd stepped out, checking the door as he closed it. He then turned and noticed Derek and gestured him over smoothly.

“Good, I don’t have to track you down,” Boyd said in lieu of greeting once Derek was a few feet away.

“What’s going on?” Derek asked, his voice taking on an authoritative tone out of habit.

“You saw the guy?” Boyd asked instead of a direct answer, which was a little uncharacteristic. Derek just nodded as Boyd reached into his pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper and handed it to Derek. Derek raised an eyebrow at his friend before taking and unfolding the paper to see a printed profile of the stranger, the label at the top catching his attention.

“Missing person? Isn’t that police work?” he asked even as he looked over the rest of the profile.

“It is when we don’t stumble on them while securing an Oni. I already talked to our liaison at the local P.D. and they agreed he’s officially our concern now.”

“We haven’t had to do protective custody in a long time. Besides, the U.E.A. has always been better at that sort of thing.” These were things he would have rather said to the police, but Derek was settling for griping to Boyd. Protective custody was a monster to deal with and really wasn’t best left up to fighting specialists. He could usually convince the people who tried to make it otherwise of that fact.

That might be why he wasn’t hearing about this until after the guy was already there.

“Yeah, I called the U.E.A. and they’re arranging for an agent to be sent over, but they said they’ll likely leave him with us. Said that the police left him in our hands for a reason, even if they weren’t so forthcoming with what that reason was.”

“So, this Me…May…Misk…” Derek stumbled over reading the name and translating it from letters into sounds. What was someone born in California doing with a name like that? Especially with parents named Noah and Claudia. “This name might be child abuse,” he couldn’t help but mutter, not too worried about professionalism around his friend of many years.

And Boyd grinned at him. “He said to call him ‘Stiles,’ that he doesn’t want his name to be cited at fault for causing a brain aneurysm.”

Derek felt himself fighting a grin. “Right, so Stiles was being held by Oni? Do we know why?”

“No, there was nothing in his place to indicate why he was holding Stiles or what was being done to him. And Stiles is being as forthcoming as his profile.” Derek gave him a questioning look. “Check his core status.”

Derek skimmed through the info provided to find the line in question: _Core Status: Undetermined_.

“What the hell does ‘undetermined’ mean? Either someone has an awakened core or they don’t. That’s how it is.”

“I asked Isaac to look into that, figured he might know where to look. He’s at least better off than I am in that regard. He’ll let you know what he finds.” That was good: Isaac was on friendly terms with people who made a living off of knowing the more obscure facts about cores and users. He had a good track record of finding answers to the wide variety of situations they faced by opposing Oni, who had their own sources.

“Did you think of asking the source?”

Boyd gave him a flat look that conveyed perfectly just how happy he was with the statement.

“No, it never occurred to me to ask the person if they are a user.”

Derek let that one slide on account of him deserving it. “What did he say?”

“He said after spending about a year and a half in Oni company, he didn’t feel like answering questions until he got something out of the deal. And, so far, he’s only asked for us to contact his dad and get him here.” At another eyebrow raise, Boyd sighed. “Apparently, he’s the Sherriff in Beacon Hills. Lydia called in just after we were contacted about him and said she was going to go get him.”

Derek was ready to question how someone who wasn’t even a Deva or a U.E.A. agent had known to call them – despite Lydia’s disposition usually being explanation enough – when his attention got caught up. “Beacon Hills?” his surprise came through strongly. He wasn’t expecting to have his hometown be a connection to this stranger. He double-checked the document in his hand to make sure he hadn’t just missed it, but it wasn’t specified there. Actually, there wasn’t much specified on the form outside what could be determined by looking at a picture or just doing a quick Google search. “Who is this kid?”

“You have unlimited access to him. The Masters are putting him in your protection and responsibility to figure out what’s going on. They don’t like being left in the dark about him either and they really don’t like not having an answer on why Oni were holding him. I suggest you take a chance talking to him. Maybe he’ll like the smooth cadence of your dulcet tones and reveal all.”

Was everyone just agreeing to mouth off to him today? It didn’t help that glaring at Boyd had never worked in his favor, but he still did it anyway. “Do they expect me to have some super power in getting him to talk or something?”

Boyd smirked at that. “Oh, getting him to talk isn’t the problem. More like, getting him to say something is where there’s been trouble. Just go meet him and get a feel for him, let him get an idea of who you are. Maybe, for once, try not to be the big bad wolf with the point being to gain his trust. I’ll go see if we’ve made any progress with anything and make sure you were actually forwarded the mission file. It’s been a busy thirty-six hours since he was released from the Oni and came into our custody.”

“They let him sleep, right?”

“Yeah, he’s never been suspected to be an Oni so they’ve been treating him as well as they can manage.”

“Why not? It’d be a good way to get someone inside our walls, pretending they were a victim when they’re really an Oni. Some Oni have done something similar before.”

“True, but none of them have killed another just to throw us off.”

Derek didn’t quite know what to say to that. Oni killed each other – many were just out for power and taking each other out for some of theirs could make just as much of a point as taking out a Deva – but they did tend to be loyal to anyone they made an alliance with. Backstabbing between allied Oni was rare.

“The Oni was a target of another division and one of their Devas were on site and about to engage. Stiles came out and hit the Oni over the head while he was distracted. Hit him with enough force to kill him. The Deva’s report should be sent to you with anything else.”

“If it was a mission from another division, why didn’t the Deva take Stiles with him? I just keep hearing more reasons to question why he’s here and not literally anywhere else.” Derek wasn’t trying to shirk duty, but the situation was just weird, seemingly not following usual protocol and ending up with them looking after Stiles while being woefully unprepared to do so.

“He was from a southcentral division, the one in Louisiana I think. And besides this being where he was found, with Stiles’ family being here in California, they figured it would be best for him to be closer to home for when he could return to it. I don’t think they’re wrong in that.”

Derek gave a slight nod. “Neither do I. That makes sense. I’ll look over the report when I get a chance and maybe then this won’t seem so unusual.”

“Don’t worry, there’s plenty unusual about all this or we wouldn’t be trying to figure out what to do. But this came down from the Masters, so nothing to do but follow orders. Stiles gets freed from Oni custody and will remain in ours until we get told otherwise.”

It was like going from one box to a, hopefully, slightly better one. This kid really had gotten a tough break.

Stiles’ birthdate put him at almost nineteen, but he’d spent the last year and a half – confirmed by the marked date of his disappearance – being held captive by Oni, who didn’t have the most hospitable reputation. Then to kill a guy to get free: killing someone didn’t come easy, Derek knew and it was part of his job to be ready to take the life of any Oni he had to pursue. And if Devas were already in pursuit of this Oni, then the one holding Stiles had already been a danger to others.

Derek was supposed to be responsible for this kid?

“Are they sure they want me taking lead on this? I’m not exactly…” he trailed off to find a word that didn’t sound too harsh simply because his friend would ignore it.

As it was, Boyd gave him a crooked grin. “They know you well enough, Derek. They know that your inability to hold a conversation doesn’t mean you won’t do everything you can to protect him.”

“Like you’re one to talk,” Derek interjected, but was ignored so Boyd could make his point.

“You’re good at looking out for people, no matter how much you get on yourself. Now, stop stalling and go introduce yourself. He’s not required to be confined here and I don’t think he should be for long, so get comfortable with him so he can leave holding.”

“To what, follow me around all day?”

“Or Scott. Those two might get along. Just let him have some freedom for a change. You know, that little thing he hasn’t had for over a year. And before that he was in high school, so really it’s been a ridiculous amount of time since he’s been able to do what he wants in any degree.”

Boyd was right, of course, so Derek had to stop letting his nerves and the strange and unexpected situation get to him. He had operational authority over most of the Devas in this division, so he really needed to act like it.

“Right. I’ll let you know if I need anything.” He declared as he walked past Boyd and scanned his ID over the panel to unlock the door.

“Remember: less growl, more words.”

“Shut up, Boyd,” he couldn’t help but shoot back as he pulled open the door and stepped inside, slipping the guy’s profile into his pocket so he wouldn’t be tempted to look at it as an excuse not to be civil with the stranger.

He glanced around the room as he shut the door behind him, spotting the kid along the wall opposite the door, walking along it with an unusually focused expression on his face or something dome to pass time. Then Derek considered maybe his mind was elsewhere. It certainly seemed like there was plenty he could be mulling over.

Figuring he should get started and not be acting like some creep just watching the guy, he announced himself, “Mr. Stilinski?”

He wasn’t expecting the just Stiles gave, hands flailing out a bit before coming up defensively in front of him as he turned toward Derek. Damn, he must have been _really_ distracted for that to be his reaction.

“Sorry for scaring you. My name is Derek Hale and I’ll be responsible for you while you’re under Deva protection,” he explained, happy to fall into the familiarity of introducing himself. He got the feeling little else they discussed would be so easy.

Stiles frowned a bit as his defensive posture relaxed a bit. “What about Baritone Boyd?” he asked and Derek raised an eyebrow, partly to contain his amusement.

“‘Baritone Boyd?’” his surprise at the designation made him unable to resist questioning.

“Yeah, deep-voiced guy called Boyd who brought me in. They gave the impression that he was the one I’d be dealing with. What, do I just get to be tossed around like a Deva hot potato?”

Derek frowned a bit at that, not sure how to take it. Stiles didn’t sound angry, but Derek wasn’t exactly fantastic at reading between the lines with people he wasn’t familiar with.

“I’m sorry for any confusion. The details of the situation are still being worked out and that is causing a bit of confusion in how things are being handled. Boyd will still be involved with your protection, but under my authority. Right now, he’ll be primarily acting as a contact between us, other Devas involved, and U.E.A. agents.”

“You got the agency involved? Why is secrecy not a thing? Is all of California going to know where to find me by noon?” Now Stiles sounded at least frustrated, if not on the brink of anger.

But Derek couldn’t help but focus in on what Stiles had said. “It’s just after three in the afternoon, so I doubt it,” he said evenly.

Stiles blinked a few times and his hands dropped to his sides. “Wait, really? Huh, wonder where I lost track.” He suddenly went back to looking thoughtful and distracted as he started muttering. “It was the apartment, then I slept in the car to wherever they took me for questioning. I might have fallen asleep again there. I might have slept in the car coming here, but that’s like five hours missing then and I wasn’t _that_ tired. I mean, when you’re kept in the same room for a long time by the same douchebag, you sleep to avoid dealing with the guy. Seriously, worst roommate ever. No college dorm could compete."

Derek blinked a few times at the ramble of dialogue, trying to discern if he was supposed to be paying attention and giving a response. He was not the person to deal with this kid.

His uncertainty made him hesitate in saying anything and it seemed that was something to actually get the kid to look directly toward him for the first time since he’d come into the room.

Not that Stiles doing so actually helped Derek recover his bearings: his profile declaring his eyes to be “brown” was a misnomer in Derek’s opinion. Stiles’ eyes were on the light side of the spectrum, more like honey than dirt. But that wasn’t it: they were _alive_ with expression and that made them just seem all that much more than anything. It was impressive to watch them practically spark with activity and reflect how much was potentially going through Stiles’ mind.

But they were also unfocused. Not in a distracted manner of being deep in thought, but in that they were more glancing in the vicinity of Derek instead of looking at him.

No way…

“We’ll do what we can to get you set up somewhere safe, but which will also allow you to get yourself back on track for returning to some manner of a normal life. We have to assume the Oni will target you again until we can prove it was a single Oni acting alone.”

Once he’d started speaking, Stiles’ eyes had honed in more accurately on where he was, but still didn’t really focus on him.

Stiles was blind. A lot of what he’d witnessed so far made so much more sense, along with how Boyd had been wording things. Derek briefly wondered if Boyd had omitted mentioning this fact on purpose, then dismissed the thought before he could get irritated: it would have more of a joke against Stiles than for Derek for that to be the case. And there was plenty Boyd had going on for him to get distracted enough to forget to mention it. Besides, Stiles seemed competent enough to not make a big deal out of it. After all, he’d walked across the room earlier by apparently just listening to where Boyd was walking and that didn’t sound easy.

However, it was still pretty unusual for Stiles to be blind in the first place. While people could still be born with such disabilities, the Regen disposition meant that a lot of physical disabilities could be healed if treated soon enough. If it was caused by damage anywhere, the damage could be repaired by a skilled Regen.

“Boyd mentioned that he sent one of our contacts to get in touch with your dad. We should hear from them within the day, depending on how long it takes her to get in touch with him and get him back here. Did you need anything else while we waited?”

Stiles looked suspicious and Derek noted how closely he seemed to be taking in what Derek said. “That’s it? No questions?”

“He said you wanted to see your dad first. I don’t think that’s unreasonable, not with how long you’ve been missing. There’s no rush on this and you deserve a break.” He saw no reason to curb the truth on that point. After all, he was going for trust and Stiles would be suspicious of probably everyone for a long time. And he doubted he was mistaking the intelligence in the thoughtful expression Stiles had. He was testing them as much as they were observing him.

“You serious?”

“Yes, I’m serious. WE aren’t in a hurry and the Oni is dead. So, unless you know something you think I should know to protect you, I’m fine with you taking time to let us know what happened.”

Stiles though about something for a few more seconds before his expression lit up with a wide smile, his whole face seeming to shift with happiness and Derek was sure he’d never seen a smile like that before.

“Well, that’s officially the second most awesome thing I’ve heard in the past two days,” he announced as he took a few steps forward before he knocked his knee against the seat of a couch, letting out a surprised “Shit!” as he flailed to keep from falling over.

Derek raised an amused eyebrow at the display of clumsiness; he really wasn’t used to seeing people run into things. “You okay?” he asked.

Stiles gave the door over Derek’s shoulder a dark look. “Just fine, thanks so much for not laughing. I just about missed the amusement at my pain in your voice.” He crossed his arms and rolled his eyes. “You’re the one who made me lose count. What’s with you Devas and messing me up on navigating a room?”

“Do you need me to see if I can find you a cane or something?”

“Nah. If you’re getting in touch with my dad, he’s got ones he’ll likely remember to bring. Not like I’m going far anyway.”

Derek thought about what Boyd had said, then crossed his arms to combat his uneasiness about making the offer. “If you want, you don’t have to stay in here.”

Stiles got an interesting blend of curiosity and confusion on his face. “Meaning?”

“I mean, you can come out to our main floor, maybe meet some of the other Devas and get a bit familiar with some of the people you’re going to be around for a while. You don’t have to, but Boyd thought you wouldn’t want to be stuck in the same room and I thought he had a point.”

Stiles gave him a grin. “Not even gonna take credit for a good idea? You’re just an inspiration. Yeah, I’d really like to not be stuck in another 10x10 by myself.”

“Fourteen,” Derek muttered almost automatically as he turned around and released the lock on the door.

“Say what?”

Derek paused and turned to say over his shoulder to be heard better. “It’s 10x14. I know, it’s my fault for making you lose count or you would have known better, right?”

Stiles took in a mocking gasp and covered his mouth with his hands dramatically. “Was that sarcasm? Oh, how I’ve missed sarcasm! Like I said, Oni make for the worst roommates. He didn’t even get sarcasm, or pretended not to. It was almost embarrassing to see my gems go right over his head. What are Oni offering to get people to become Oni if they can’t even enjoy sarcasm? And I don’t think they have great health plans, can’t imagine steady income being a thing with their records impeding getting a job. So, what’s the appeal of being an Oni?”

Again, Derek wasn’t sure what he should say to the barrage of words as Stiles just flowed from one sentence into the next and powered through needing to breath, seemingly.

“Well…” he stumbled to say and that seemed to catch Stiles’ focus and he reached up to scratch at the back of his head, making his untidy dark hair stick up even more.

“So, I, uh, talk. Like, a lot. Feel free to disregard most of what I say. Brain-to-mouth filter is just about nonexistent so I just say what comes to mind and my mind doesn’t like to stick to logical trains of thought.”

“I see,” Derek mused just to say something. “I think I know someone you’ll get along with. If you take a step to your left, there’s nothing else in your way to the door.” He figured it wouldn’t hurt to help Stiles out that much since the guy seemed like the kind to not actually ask for help, even if he really needed it.

Stiles followed his instruction and stepped around the couch and walked up to Derek, stopping on his own about a foot away. He then reached out suddenly and Derek instinctively grabbed onto the extended wrist, like he’d thought Stiles was going to fall over or something. Stiles grinned and Derek wondered if that had been completely on purpose on Stiles’ part to get that reaction. When Stiles worked his wrist free and settled his hand in the crook of Derek’s elbow, Derek was sure it had been on purpose and just a bit manipulative.

“I’m not going back out there without knowing exactly where my guide is. And you Devas are light on your feet. I can barely hear you moving when I’m listening for it. So, lead the way to my amusement. If it’s sufficient, you might actually get something else accomplished with the rest of your day.”

Derek paused for a few seconds to process the flow of words before shaking off the slight confusion and turning to open the door, leading the way as he suppressed his amusement. Scott better be done with his report because he likely wouldn’t be able to concentrate one he got going with Stiles. They were probably going to get along great and hopefully that would let Derek get a better handle on just what the hell he was now caught up in the middle of.

As a Deva, he was supposed to he ready for anything and he thought he was. But this was different.

Something about Stiles and what was going on with him felt different to Derek. It wasn’t just that he had been captured and held hostage by Oni for such a long time; that had happened before as the Oni tried to find a way to get what they wanted from their victims. It wasn’t even that there wasn’t a clear answer on whether or not Stiles was a user. There was just something that wasn’t adding up, least of all how Stiles was acting when one considered what he’d just gotten out of. It was like he wasn’t touched by what he’d been through and that didn’t match.

Derek needed to work things out and he needed to not be having to focus on Stiles to do that. Scott was the perfect distraction.


	2. Becoming Familiar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Stiles' version of "getting to know you"...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who left kudos and comments on the first chapter. And even if you silently enjoyed, thank you for that as well. I hope you all continue to enjoy.  
> Here's chapter 2!

Well, Stiles and Scott got along alright. And may the world be spared its sanity for them being introduced because Derek was sure his had been sacrificed to the cause. The two hadn’t stopped talking in the two hours since Derek had led Stiles to sit in one of the extra chairs floating around the room and had introduced them to each other. So, while Derek was somewhat relieved that someone else was able to provide Stiles with entertainment, there was the fact that they made it nearly impossible to get anything done. And they were just too animated for Derek to tune out like he could normally manage when it came to dealing with people around him.

Though it did give Derek the opportunity he figured he wouldn’t have gotten otherwise to get a feel for Stiles, to find out just what he was like without navigating a conversation himself. After all, Derek was out of his comfort zone when it came to talking to people, especially people he didn’t know, and he often relied on using his nonverbal communication to get his point across. Stiles appeared to rely on talking to communicate, inability to see notwithstanding, so they didn’t make for the best pair for holding anything resembling a good conversation.

Scott just fed off Stiles’ energy and their exuberance filled the room.

What this really ended up meaning was that Derek learned more about Stiles in two hours than he had probably ever learned about anyone in that same amount of time, ever. Hell, he’d even learned things about Scott that he’d never have figured out on his own.

He learned that Stiles was first and foremost sarcastic and quick-witted. He had already shown some of that to Derek, but the point was firmly made now. But he also wasn’t cruel about it and that told Derek that he likely was a really caring person, but had learned how to protect himself in any way he could.

He was also surprisingly intelligent. It was harder to pick up on with how his mind tended to jump around, but the sheer volume of information he seemed to remember was ridiculous. Derek also figured that it wasn’t that Stiles was consciously trying to hide intelligence like many teenagers did, but likely struggled with it and didn’t have a good handle on how to use it to his advantage. Being blind probably helped a little since it gave him something he had to focus on, but the disconnected manner of his thoughts was definitely not a purposeful thing, further proven by how much Stiles got irritated with himself sometimes.

Beyond that was the more obvious aspects to Stiles: he was expressive and energetic, his body always in motion. His hands moving constantly when he was talking, fidgeting at his side when he was listening. And while maybe not so much of an open book emotionally, it was pretty easy to figure out what his level of interest was in what he was hearing. You could always tell the point that you lost his attention. Derek was proud that he’d caught the last few huge jumps in topic that Stiles led Scott down by watching the expressions shifting on the other man’s face.

He wondered if he’d ever really need to check Stiles’ heartbeat when looking for him to be lying about something.

Ultimately, Derek felt like he’d learned more about Stiles Stilinski than he’d ever learned about anyone, let alone in such a short period of time. But he still felt like it wasn’t enough.

He was trying to not get too caught up in it all, though. First of all, he didn’t want to pry into Stiles’ business all the time: just because Stiles was under his protection didn’t automatically give him the right to know everything about the younger man. Second of all, he did actually have work to do. He was trying to go over everything he had in the file attached to Stiles, but what they had wasn’t much and Stiles was really damn distracting.

At least he wasn’t the only one suffering the nature of the active conversation happening behind him as every time he looked around the room, others were looking their way as well, no longer suspicious of the stranger but increasingly curious. This was an unusual situation and they all knew it. Devas or not, there was still a measure of normalcy that was maintained in the office, it was supposed to be the place they didn’t have to be as ready for anything; it was their safety, their protection. Stiles being there somewhat upset that despite him not being apparently dangerous.

Catching a familiar scent approaching, Derek turned away from his computer and stood. Scott looked over to him, but he just waved him off, letting him know he didn’t need to steal Stiles’ attention. He turned and made his way over to meet Boyd, his eyes glancing over the Deva’s shoulder to the User Enforcement Agent he recognized: Kira Yukimura was a good choice to send to a potentially mistrusting civilian. Not only could she match skill in combat with just about any Deva, but Derek had decided soon after meeting her that it was impossible to think badly of her. She took “kind” and “wholesome” to a new level.

Hopefully, Scott wouldn’t notice she was there or he might just leave Stiles hanging to come talk to her: he had the most ridiculous crush on her and he tended to get absentminded to his responsibilities when she was around. And it was only ridiculous because he hadn’t worked up the courage to ask her out, despite how it was pretty obvious she liked him, too.

Derek met them far enough away that Stiles shouldn’t be able to overhear them – though he had no clue what Stiles’ hearing was like to make up for his lack of sight – and stepped in close so they would be more inclined to speak quietly.

“Kira, it’s always a pleasure to see you,” Derek greeted professionally and she smiled at him warmly.

“Hi, Derek. I heard some strange rumor that you don’t know how to handle protective custody,” she said easily.

“We can’t all be the almighty User Enforcement Agency. And you know we wouldn’t listen to just anyone.”

Kira was another user he’d met a few years ago, just over three years now, the young woman joining the U.E.A. right at eighteen and proving herself capable quickly. He had met her right before she had joined in one of his days of being sent out to speak to teens interested in becoming Devas and she had gotten his attention despite realizing she was a Chimera by having more than one core so wasn't allowed to apply to be a Deva. He'd still talked with her briefly and encouraged her to look into the U.E.A. to see if she'd be interested applying there instead. Now, she would be 21 soon and had a strong reputation built within the agency and the Devas. They’d worked together regularly and he’d been pleased by her progress and what she’d contributed to the enforcement side of being a user.

“We don’t know much about what’s going on, just that Stilinski was of some value to the Oni or they would have killed him in the eighteen months they had him.” He nodded toward Stiles and Kira took a moment to take him in. She was good about picking up on details others couldn’t: it wasn’t so much about her own dispositions as it was many generations of users having an effect on senses. Even people without cores have demonstrated having those sort of instincts, this sixth sense about cores, if they came from a family with a predominance of users.

Just another way that they were finding less and less differences between people with and without cores.

And Kira’s instincts were among the best he’d seen. She’d worked hard to train herself to understand what she saw and felt.

“Interesting,” she whispered, Derek only catching it because of his enhanced hearing.

“What’s interesting?” he asked and she looked back to him, her eyes thoughtful.

“It’s like he’s muffled. I think he’s a user: he’s putting out some energy like users do, but it isn’t right. It’s not suppression like someone hiding their core, more like it’s not coming from the right place.”

“Could it be an uncentered core?” Boyd asked. Derek agreed that would make him valuable with uncentered cores accounting for many of the strongest and rarest of dispositions.

But Kira was shaking her head. “No, I’ve worked with Ouroboros before, who have uncentered cores. It doesn’t look like this to have an uncentered core. That’s a natural state; what I see in him isn’t natural.”

Derek crossed his arms. “He’s also blind. It might be connected. He hasn’t been checked for a seal and we know some of the older ones often lock away some people’s basic functions or senses.”

“It’s possible. Those old seals are a mess to deal with and I wouldn’t put it past Oni to use them on a captive. I can look into it once I’ve got you guys set with him. Boyd filled me in on what we do know about him. I do think he is in danger and will need protection. I also agree with you being put in charge of his protection.” Derek lifted an eyebrow at her and refused to show any hint of embarrassment at what he knew was going to follow: her listing the reasons she thought that. “For one, your house is already secure enough to allow him to stay there and even have some space for himself. And your disposition will help you keep track of him better than most.”

“Wait, back up!” he interrupted with a wave of his hands. “He’s staying with me now? I thought he was staying here.”

Boyd gave him a disbelieving look. “You want to lock him in a holding room with the skeleton crew? Or were you going to bunk in the corner?”

Yeah, it was a bit stupid to think Stiles would stay here. And the building might be secure but it was out of the way and no one would get there in good time if something happened. And it wasn’t like his place was going to be cramped with one more person: all active Devas were given good options for housing, one of the few things the organization could offer those who put their lives on the line against the Oni.

Kira glanced over at Derek and smiled after a short pause. “You already know all you need to know about looking after someone. Just imagine he’s one of the Devas you have authority over and then take away all competence in battle and you’ll have an idea of what you need to do. Just try to act natural around him and he’ll get along with you just fine. If all else fails, invite Scott over to keep him company and be your backup; they look like they get along well enough. The more comfortable he is around you, the better off he’ll be.”

Derek nodded. After listening to Stiles for the past few hours, he wasn’t so worried about being around him; he was a decent enough person and Derek hadn’t witnessed anything to make him suspicious of the kid faking any of it.

They’d be alright. But…

“I’m requesting you to stay on as a consultant. And if we figure anything out about what’s going on with him, I think you’ll be handy to have around,” he declared and Kira just smiled again.

“Of course. When have I ever turned down the chance to hang out with some Devas?” she responded.

That reminded Derek. “Didn’t you recently visit some of the Japanese Deva divisions? A few weeks ago?”

“Word travels well enough, I see,” she said with a laugh. “They’re running short on Qilin right now. All of them were on assignment and they needed to secure an Oni until a Qilin returned to handle the sealing. It was a particularly nasty Plague who’d managed to infect quite a few of them before they caught him.” As common of a disposition as Qilins were, with their abilities to create barriers and seal cores being a great asset to all enforcement organizations, there were times when there just weren't enough who chose to work with the Devas and U.E.A.

Boyd shuddered. “Plagues make me so uncomfortable. Being able to damage someone’s immune system just by touching them is just cruel.”

Derek nodded agreement. “I’m glad you could help,” he added. Plagues were rare and so many ended up driven by the instinct to infect so there ended up being very few who didn’t become Oni.

“Just another tally on my list of things I never want to deal with ever again. Anyway, I’ll get started on getting Stiles some essentials: clothes, toothbrush, phone, maybe a subscription to one of those books-on-tape apps so he can pass time somehow in the hours of your silence.” She finished with a grin and Derek let out the barest of growls. “Oh, come on, that was funny and you know it. You really should just admit you’re the most entertaining person to tease and get with the program.”

Derek’s glower didn’t let up and Kira laughed.

“Don’t wait up for me. I’ll drop off what I get at your place later. I’d recommend calling it an early day and going to get something to eat, let him do something normal and in public. Just keep your eyes and ears on him for freaking out. He looks like he’s doing alright, but trauma can come out in response to seemingly unrelated stimuli.”

Derek crossed his arms again. “Our job is to protect him and the first thing you want me to do is put him in the open.” It was a disbelieving statement instead of a question.

“Let’s get him really used to you before we stick you in the same house. It’ll be good for him. And you.”

Derek didn’t doubt Kira’s reasoning, but had to wonder if there were some ulterior motives. Nothing too dangerous and not at all malicious: it just wasn’t the first time she’d encouraged a social life for him.

* * *

This was why a social life didn’t agree with Derek: four minutes of awkward silence between him and Stiles as they sat on opposite sides of a booth, Derek scanning the restaurant so he wasn’t staring at Stiles and Stiles fidgeting with a straw as his eyes stayed lowered like he was staring at the table. Derek didn’t know how to break silences once they hit and usually didn’t feel the need to.

Stiles had quieted down once they’d left the division, like he wasn’t sure what to do with himself now that he was back on the outside. Derek didn’t need to check his hearing or scent to figure out his companion was nervous. Maybe he should have asked Scott to come along, act as a distraction who was much more capable of holding a conversation.

Stiles suddenly sighed and muttered, “This is stupid,” before turning his eyes toward Derek. “I guess we should get to know each other if I’m going to be crashing your place for the foreseeable future,” he declared, his tone insistent and strong.

Derek said the first thing that came to mind: “Hopefully you don’t mean that literally.” He was immediately grateful for Stiles’ blindness because he was pretty sure he’d flushed after speaking.

But Stiles grinned at his words, his expression lighting up his entire demeanor. This guy was something else.

“I make no promises but I doubt it’ll be intentional for the first few days. Oh, and I reserve right to forget a floor plan if you’re irritating. So, almighty one with authority over this division of Devas, what’s your superpower?”

There was absolutely no break between one subject and the next and Stiles tended to talk fast as it was.

“I’m a Shifter, wolf,” he answered after a few seconds of needing to catch up.

“That’s awesome! You know, I’ve been around a lot of users and no matter that it’s not a rare disposition, I haven’t met a Shifter before. Awakened or Born?”

“Born.”

“Double awesome! So you’ve definitely got the monopoly on superpowers. Don’t Born Shifters have enhanced senses and strength and healing even without activating their cores? I always thought that’d be pretty cool to be able to hear and see like everything, but then I’m subjected to some loud noise I’m not expecting and I change my mind. And I don’t even want to think about smells. There’s some pretty rank stuff in the world and I’m fine with a normal ability to smell. Oh, and can’t Born Shifters do this really cool thing where they pull pain out of people?”

Derek gave Stiles a few seconds to see if he was actually looking for an answer to that. “Only wolves as far as we know. Some Awakened Chimeras have developed the ability as well, but it’s only guaranteed in Born wolves.” He’d admit he liked watching Stiles’ excitement at learning about Derek’s disposition. With cores being a commonality in the world, someone having genuine interest in details of the different dispositions – of which there were hundreds – was actually not a common find. It usually came down to “core or no core” and then “what’s your disposition?” and that was it.

“What’s that like?” Stiles’ next question focused Derek back on him.

He thought it over for a while, never having to put it into words before. “It’s strange, I guess. Sort of like a burn under the skin that fades as it circulates through the body. Taking a lot can be dangerous, but our accelerated healing makes it pass pretty quickly. And the break of pain for the person allows their body to relax and makes it easier on them, and it usually causes a release of endorphins so they stay relaxed and not in as much pain. Many Born wolves go into the medical field and work with Regens, treating patients in tandem."

“Whoa, that’s freakin’ awesome!”

Derek hesitated to ask what he wanted to ask, not wanting to say the wrong thing and put them back into silence, but then figured it would only be natural in a conversation. “Do you have a core?” Stiles’ expression faltered, his grin frozen and no longer genuine. “I mean, all I have is a basic profile the cops were able to compile and it didn’t say. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want. There’s no requirement to disclose status.” That was still something relatively new that many users and organizations were still getting used to: it used to be required for all users to register cores but more and more countries were adapting to the mindset that there was no need for people to know in most cases.

“No, that’s alright. I don’t really care, it’s no big deal,” Stiles seemed to be trying to regain his easy-going composure. "So, officially, I have a core, but it’s visually based. Ergo, useless for me, whose luscious gaze is all blank.”

Derek felt a little more embarrassed but wasn’t sure why. “So, you’re completely blind? Nothing?”

“Yup, it’s a dark world for me,” Stiles proclaimed as he tapped a finger against his temple, then got a little more serious. “The optic nerve got damaged, so while my eyes work, there’s nothing to send the information to my brain.”

“There’s nothing they can do to treat it?”

“Nah, the damage is extensive and Regens can only do so much. Plus how it happened actually makes it even more difficult for a Regen to get it right. There were some willing to try, but I turned them down. I’d gotten used to it by then and didn’t like the idea of a surgery or a Regen working on me. I never even liked them doing a general health check on me; felt weird.”

Someone not liking a Regen’s power contacting them? That was probably a first. The whole point of the Regen disposition was to heal, and so usually it was a relief to feel their power enter the body, whether or not the person was a user.

But Derek figured that didn’t make for the best subject to follow, so Derek asked a more generic question. “How old were you?”

“Around ten.”

Just a kid and he’d decided he’d rather stay blind? Derek wasn’t sure he would have been able to make the same choice when he was that age. This guy really was just simply something different than anyone else Derek had met. Ever.

“Enough of the sob story exposition!” Derek wanted to deny Stiles, hear more about him but Stiles didn’t give him the chance and just charged on. “This whole protective custody by the Devas, how’s it gonna work?”

Derek leaned forward a bit, resting his elbows on the table so he could lower his voice. It was more out of habit than of any concern of someone listening in, the booths around them being empty. “Like I said earlier, we want you to be able to go back to a normal life while making sure you don’t just end up back in Oni hands. For the time being, we were recommended that to mean you stay with me. My place is secure enough and apparently I make for good protection.”

“Well, yeah, I bet you’re better than Lassie.” Derek couldn’t help but glower at that. “Nothing? Or you don’t think she’s a guard dog? Maybe Cujo then. He’s a tough one. Sure, he goes crazy and kills everyone, but sometimes that’s a thing.” Derek continued silently glaring because he just didn’t know what to say to discourage Stiles from this theme. “Oh, you’re glaring, aren’t you? Scott said you have this thing with glaring. Hate to break it to you, but it’s a lot wasted on me: I’m immune. But feel free to tell me to shut up and that I’m rambling. I do that and it can get weird because I’m not so great at picking up on nonverbals. And I’m not all that great at guessing when to stop either, so there’s just a whole lack of shutting-the-fuck-up that happens when I get going.”

Derek hesitated for a second before deciding it wouldn’t hurt considering he was going to be close quarters with this guy for a while and he needed to do something to get past his awkwardness, so he deadpanned, “Stiles, you’re rambling.”

Stiles froze and stayed silent, then startled as their waitress brought their food. He even stayed quiet as he started in on his fries before Derek took pity on him.

“Wow, it does work.” He took a bite of his own burger as Stiles took a second to process that he’d been teased. His face lit up with a grin once it dawned on him and Derek had to look at his plate so he didn’t stare – no one was _that_ expressive, he scolded himself silently.

“Well, aren’t you a delightful asshole,” Stiles then declared before digging into his own burger. They ate in silence for a few minutes, though it was a comfortable one. Unsurprisingly, it was Stiles who spoke first once his burger and most of his fries were gone. “Question. So, I have about the same understanding of how Devas work as any other lowly civilian who didn’t want to join them so learned nothing about them. You guys deal with Oni, you’re the Ghostbusters of dealing with Oni, and all of you are like elite trained fighters that can deal with anything Oni.”

Derek wasn’t sure what was Stiles’ habit of overstatement and what he actually believed. “I guess. There’s of course a basic training we all undergo, then there’s additional training more geared toward each individual disposition and specialty. Each Deva is assigned a personalized training and experience regiment that allows them to meet requirements of the organization while allowing them to become uniquely valuable. The numbers we maintain allow that to be possible.”

“Got it: they’ve all got their own skill trees. So, does you calling the shots for the division mean that you’re like ‘Super Deva’? Scott didn’t say how it worked and I forgot to think of it. He said he doesn’t think you’re too much older, but cores always make guessing age practically moot.”

“There’s ranking within the Devas, like any military or law enforcement agency. Though, not many people bother looking into it, I’ve noticed. They seem to be content to accept our presence for the most part. Devas only have four tiers for rank, keeping the number low so there’s less chance of our rank limiting what we’re allowed to pursue as specialties. I’m on the second tier, so only have one position above me.”

“Counting Prominents?”

The Prominent Devas were in charge of the entire organization, the “big picture guys” as Scott liked to call them. And pretty much everyone knew about them so it wasn't a surprise that Stiles did while claiming not to know much. “No, not counting them.”

“How’d you get to be in charge?”

Derek really didn’t want to talk about this, but Stiles’ curiosity and eyes bright with interest made it a bit easier. “My mission history is really good. High success rate, low number of casualties, and my approach to my assignments is considered exceptional. I’ve basically proven that I can make effective decisions in a wide variety of situations.” He still wasn’t sure he was the right person for the job, not when Boyd had proven just as capable throughout his own years as a Deva. “They promoted me as soon as I was eligible so they’d been pleased with my performance for a while.”

“You don’t sound like you are.” Derek wasn’t too surprised that Stiles picked up on his mood. All the guy could pay attention to was his voice and he wasn’t as great about keeping his emotions concealed when he actually talked; it was why he preferred silence.

“I’m adjusting to it, still. I wasn’t expecting it either, but it’s not something we get a choice about.”

“Story of the life of anyone who gets a core. Did you know that over half of the registered users in the world have stated that they didn’t want to have a core awaken? They would have preferred to go through life without. That’s why there’s still so many that choose a job that has nothing to do with their disposition. And it’s even worse for Chimeras, with the shitty and outdated reputation for being unbalanced and it being a shortcut to being an Oni. Doesn’t matter that that was proven false years ago by multiple researchers, they still get attitude from people believing in old wives’ tales.” Stiles paused there, looking thoughtful, then amused. “And here I’m talking to a Deva: the poster children to working to your disposition.”

Derek mulled that over for a few seconds before he had to say, “I can’t tell if that was an observation or a shot against me.”

Stiles’ expression got a lot more mischievous than Derek was really comfortable seeing on a guy that was supposedly held captive by Oni for over a year. “Yes,” he answered noncommittally.

Derek came to a sudden decision about this situation and the warmth in Stiles’ eyes that never seemed to fade, no matter the expression he had at the moment, and he had revealed enough throughout their time sitting here that he felt compelled to share it. Well, sort of.

“I don’t think this is going to work, me looking out for you.” Stiles’ expression at least got quite panicked at that and Derek gave it a few seconds to settle. “Someone who can’t appreciate all the work I put into looking surly and be properly intimidated by my glares just doesn’t leave anything but my personality to build a connection off of. And my personality is downright shitty.”

Stiles was frozen for a good chink of time and Derek was tempted to check his watch to time the reaction.

“Oh my god, was that a joke? Scott didn’t say anything about you being capable of a sense of humor, let alone any comedic timing. How could he not mention that?”

“He probably doesn’t know. Top secret details there.”

“Oh, okay, Sourwolf. Then I guess this is where I reveal I don’t think it’ll work either. After all, my contribution is 159 pounds of sarcasm. That doesn’t really go well with ‘shitty personality.’ Oh, unless you give me a gun. Then I could have sarcasm and a gun. That’s better right? Everyone likes the guy with the gun.”

Derek wasn’t exaggerating the panic he was sure was on his face now, not that it mattered. “I’m not giving you a gun. Even if it was standard for Devas to carry, I would _not_ give you a gun.”

“Now that’s just rude. And I think there’s some discrimination in there to boot. Won’t give a gun to a blind guy. What, don’t think I can shoot?”

Derek leaned back and crossed his arms, not worried about Stiles actually being offended in the least. “I don’t doubt your ability to shoot. Practically anyone can _shoot_ a gun. My concern is in your ability to _aim_. Pardon me if I’m doubtful of someone I watched walk into a desk and a couch proclaiming their skill in precision aim.”

“That’s totally different and one day I’ll prove to you just how badass I am.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t hope for the opportunity to present itself.”

Stiles gave a laugh before he seemed to sober up a bit, obviously thinking something over. He then focused back towards Derek, his voice resolute. “So, we missed this part, you know how we met being what it was. But an introduction is important.” He held his hand out across the table toward Derek, held high enough over the table that he wasn't in danger of knocking anything over. “I’m Stiles Stilinski. It’s not my real name, but nobody can pronounce my real name so it might as well be.”

“Can I hear it?” Derek found himself asking.

Stiles looked confused before shrugging. “It’s Mieczyslaw. My name is Mieczyslaw.”

Derek had been listening closely, picking up on the pronunciation and he thought he could pull it off, especially with Stiles having said it twice. But: “No, you’re Stiles.”

He got another laugh for that. “I tried to warn you. So, you just gonna leave me hanging or what?” He waved the fingers of his still outstretched hand for emphasis.

Derek smiled a bit. “Derek Hale,” he said unnecessarily as he reached out and shook hands with Stiles.

He thought for a second he felt his core grow warm, centered in his heart as it was, reaching out to touch Stiles as he had.

Something important had just happened; he knew it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as before, if you have any questions, feel free to ask and I will answer if it's not something that will be revealed in due time.  
> Thank you so much for reading and I look forward to seeing you next time.


	3. Pasts Revisited

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles reunites with who he cares about and Derek takes the opportunity to look into what Stiles won't tell him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for the kudos and comments! All are so very much appreciated.  
> Hope you all continue to enjoy and here is chapter 3.

That first night of Stiles in Derek’s place went off easily enough. Derek let Stiles walk throughout the place for a few hours, memorizing the layout and moving things that were just inconveniently located for a blind person to have to work around. Granted, Derek didn’t have much in his apartment, just the basics that he sparingly used, but he hadn’t placed them being thoughtful of counting steps in every direction.

Kira had stopped by near the end of that process, bearing a couple bags of essentials, including plenty of clothes that she went through and described to Stiles before they put it all away in the room on the other side of Derek’s that Stiles had decided to take.

It had been a strangely careful decision on Stiles’ part, picking between the other two rooms in Derek’s place. And when Stiles had declared that he’d take the one right next to Derek’s instead of the one across the hall, he hadn’t elaborated on why he’d picked that one.

Derek was fine with it either way: he’d be able to hear Stiles just a little bit better if he needed anything and he would be directly positioned between Stiles and the door so he could hold a better defensive position.

But Derek had thought that Kira was sweet, taking the time she did to help Stiles get settled. The fact that she’d seemed to be genuinely enjoying herself while she talked with Stiles just enforced that thought and he was happy to have her involvement.

Not that Stiles was all that tedious to be around, Derek decided and the next morning only helped to solidify that opinion. Apparently, word had gotten around that the division and Derek would be looking out for a civilian – likely Scott’s fault – and everyone not obligated to other work was coming to meet Stiles. It wasn’t entirely unprofessional since they had to know what he looked like so no one would think he was somewhere he shouldn’t be. What was a little less professional was the minimum of a half hour the Devas would spend with Stiles after introductions were made. Sure, some of that might be that many of his fellow Devas weren’t used to someone who would go off for minutes at a time on just about any subject, but many of them seemed to just enjoy the removal from the norm.

 But Derek didn’t feel like interrupting at any point: it didn’t hurt anyone for them to have that time for a break and it would do them some good.

And when Scott arrived for his shift, Derek lost track of both of them for a while as Scott led Stiles on a more thorough tour of the building. It was at that point when Derek made sure Scott knew to at least text him periodically with where they were: it wouldn’t do well to lose the guy he was supposed to be protecting in the Deva facility on his second day being responsible for him.

He hadn’t actually seen Stiles and Scott for about two hours – he was getting texts from Scott about every ten minutes at least – when he got a call on his desk line, picking it up as he was making his way through the report submitted by the Deva who had found Stiles and their accounting of what had happened. “Hale,” he greeted absently.

“Derek, Lydia is here with Sheriff Stilinski,” Boyd’s smooth voice answered, gaining Derek’s full attention.

“Escort them up,” he replied, his tone slipping toward authoritative out of habit.

“Yes, sir,” Boyd quipped back for him doing so and Derek allowed a small uptick of the corner of his mouth. He stood from his desk and moved toward the elevator to greet the visitors, grabbing his phone and typing out a quick text to Scott, telling him to bring Stiles back and why as he went. He got a nearly immediate response declaring that they were on their way and he sent one more, relaying that they’d be in the small conference room on the level for privacy.

He slipped his phone into his pocket and waited a short time longer until the elevator pinged and opened to let out Boyd, followed by Lydia and the unfamiliar man who had to be Noah Stilinski.

Even without being told that the man was a Sheriff, Derek would have guessed that he was in law enforcement: they carried themselves differently in a way that was obvious to anyone who knew what to look for. But his eyes were wise, the effects of seeing people on their worst days for a living, even without the experience of his own son’s disappearance. His light brown hair was cut standard short for an officer with specks of grey here and there and his eyes were blue, on the lighter side. Stiles really didn’t share much in common appearance-wise with his dad, Derek noted. And where Stiles was basically the embodiment of energy, the Sheriff was much more reserved and collected.

But Derek could recognize the combination of emotions in Stilinski’s eyes and the racing of his heart Derek couldn’t help but hear: this was a father ready to see his son.

“Sheriff Stilinski, my name is Derek Hale. I’ve been given responsibility of looking after Stiles as long as the Devas are protecting him.”

He held out his hand to shake and Stilinski looked at it for a few seconds before giving it a quick shake. “Hale,” he repeated a bit absently, like he was trying to place a familiar name.

“My family is from Beacon Hills. You may recognize the name from that,” Derek offered and Stilinski nodded like that was at least an acceptable explanation for him.

“Where’s Stiles?” he asked as Derek figured he would: it was the entire reason he was here.

“Another Deva is showing him around the facility. They should be back in a few minutes. Can you follow me and I’ll get us some privacy?” Stilinski nodded and Derek gave Boyd and Lydia a wave to follow as well. They crossed to the left wall and Derek unlocked and opened the door to the conference room and let the others pass to enter first before closing the door behind him.

Remembering he hadn’t greeted Lydia yet, he focused on her. “Thank you for your help, Lydia. It’s always appreciated.”

He’d known Lydia for about a year now, the division using her as a consultant regularly since she couldn’t be offered the position of a Deva – Reapers were one of the few dispositions that weren’t accepted as Devas – and she didn’t want to work for the User Enforcement Agency, instead focusing on going to school and putting her rather remarkable intelligence to good use.

She glanced to Stilinski before looking back to Derek. “It’s a call I’ve been waiting to make for a while. No one else was going to be the one to make it,” she declared. She was pretty much always abrasive, confident – a bit of a bitch, according to Scott – but Derek figured she sort of earned it because of her disposition; he’d always had the opinion that being aware of people’s deaths made for harsh experiences and he hadn’t met a Reaper that changed his mind about that.

But did that insistence mean she knew Stiles as well? Sure, Derek was about four years older than Stiles so there wasn’t much opportunity for having shared circles and Derek had left Beacon Hills as soon as he graduated high school, but the town wasn’t _that_ big. He just felt like he should have at least known of Stiles’ existence before yesterday.

He turned his attention back to Stilinski and felt the urge to ask the questions Stiles wouldn’t give a straight answer to. “Sheriff, do you have any idea as to why the Oni held Stiles like they did?”

“You don’t know?” Stilinski responded and Derek caught Boyd shooting him a questioning look over the Sheriff’s shoulder.

“Stiles hasn’t been very…forthcoming in revealing details of his time with the Oni. And we didn’t get an opportunity to question the Oni. We agreed to hold questioning Stiles until you arrived, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt to ask you.”

“You don’t question someone found with an Oni?” he was questioning their methods, something Derek was used to: Devas didn’t answer to anyone but the Deva Prominents and an increasing number of people were finding issue with that, issues Derek figured would be around until the Oni found themselves with an ally powerful enough to win against the U.E.A. and other defenses, someone who would require the bulk of the Devas to handle.

“The Deva who was in charge in the attack against the Oni and found Stiles didn’t believe there was any threat from Stiles, didn’t see him as an enemy so he was not treated like the police would a suspect. And since arriving here, he hasn’t done anything to gain suspicion. We have Devas who are capable of alerting us of any threat.”

“You have Telepaths here?”

“Telepaths aren’t necessary.” Between Derek’s own instincts and abilities and the experience of other Devas assigned to that division, they were well-protected against deception. They weren’t infallible, but something would have been set off by Stiles if there had been anything to set off.

Stilinski observed Derek for a few seconds, Derek thinking the man must make for a good Sheriff. He seemed to be satisfied with something since his expression eased a bit as he responded, “No, we didn’t even get an idea as to why he was taken. He just didn’t come home from work one night and we didn’t hear anything about him until Lydia called yesterday.”

Derek decided as Stilinski was speaking to just power through for some – any – answers. “Oni usually hold people because they’re after their cores. Stiles said his disposition is something visual but didn’t know what it was because of going blind when it awakened. Do you know his disposition?”

“I’m not a user. Neither was his mother. Two generations back of no known awakened cores in our family. When his core awakened and destroyed his vision we all agreed not to worry about something he couldn’t use. So, we never did any evaluations, just declared him to have an awakened core. And laws concerning cores as they are, we already did more than was required, but we wanted to make sure it was on his file in case he ever needed treatment that’s affected by having a core.”

They’d done their homework, Derek would admit. This wasn’t even the first time he’d heard reasoning like this from civilians.

He was ready to continue his line of questions when the lock released on the door and Scott pulled the door open and stepped in with Stiles following a step behind, his hand on Scott’s shoulder, letting the other man obviously lead him, Derek figured for the sake of getting to his dad faster.

And once Stilinski’s eyes settled on Stiles, Derek swore the man looked years younger. Relief and love were most prominent and that told Derek all he needed to know about this man. He may have seemed dismissive while answering Derek, but this was a father who had done anything to find his son, likely made worse by his position as a Sheriff.

And Stiles was practically about to explode by containing his excitement, even as he was obviously trying to concentrate on his surroundings.

“Stiles,” Stilinski breathed out his son’s name, his throat still catching on the sound.

And Stiles went completely still before he took a cautious step forward around Scott, likely not able to get a handle on where the sound had come from. Then, the father crossed the room in quick strides and wrapped his arms around his son’s shoulders, holding him close and tight. Stiles returned the embrace just as fiercely, shoving his face into his dad’s neck, his breath hitching with his own emotion.

“Dad, you’re really here,” Stiles was whispering and Derek felt like he was intruding by being able to hear.

“Yeah, bud, I’m really here. And so are you. I missed you,” Stilinski responded. He gave one last tight squeeze before holding Stiles out at arms-length so he could give him a careful once-over, Stiles taking firm hold of his dad’s arms to make sure he stayed in contact. After a short silence, Stilinski let out a heavy sigh and declared, “You’re grounded.”

“What?!” Stiles shouted in response and Lydia smirked behind Stilinski.

“For at least double how long you’ve been gone. Considering that’s easily how many years you shaved off my life, it’s only fair.”

“Not cool, Dad. Derek, you’re still in here, right? I changed my mind: I don’t want this guy here. You have my full cooperation as long as you get him out of here immediately.”

“There’s poor taste in jokes, and then there’s that. Nice going, Stiles,” Lydia said before Derek could respond.

Stiles tensed, his heart beating a bit faster in his surprise at hearing her voice before he looked excited again. “Lydia! What are you doing here? You’re not a Deva too are you? You said you weren’t applying because they were weird about having Reapers around. Why didn’t you guys tell me she was here? That’s just rude to withhold her from my awesomeness longer than she had been already.”

“I’m not a Deva, Stiles,” Lydia cut him off once she got the chance, obviously used to needing to make breaks in Stiles’ ramblings to get words in. “They get my help, but that’s it.”

Stiles used her talking to hone in on where she was, moving past his dad to wrap his arm around Lydia’s shoulders, giving her just as strong of an embrace as he’d given his dad. He let go pretty quickly, though and gave her a blinding grin before stepping back until he bumped into his dad, who laid a hand on Stiles’ shoulder easily. It looked like it was a familiar thing, like Stiles used that sort of thing a lot.

Derek watched the three and decided this wasn’t where he needed to be. He, Scott, and Boyd were intruding on this reunion between a father and his son when it wasn’t necessary. At least that was something he could rectify.

Besides, he had work to do.

“Sheriff Stilinski, you guys can use this room for a while. I’ll leave Boyd just outside in case you need anything,” he stated as he waved the two Devas out.

“Wait, you’re leaving?” Stiles asked and Derek was confused by his tone: he sounded anxious.

“Well, you’re still under Deva protection so I’ll be back. I just thought you might want some time with your dad without anyone intruding that didn’t need to. Just be aware that you guys will have to stay in here. You may be a Sheriff, sir, but there’s too much sensitive information out there and you’re not cleared by circumstances to be in a position to see it.”

The Sheriff nodded understanding, but for some reason Derek couldn’t figure out Stiles still didn’t look satisfied or calmed. Derek had no idea why that would be.

“I’ll be back in a while and we can work out how things are going to move forward from here. It was a pleasure to meet you, Sheriff Stilinski. Lydia, you’re welcome to stay as well and Scott will see you out once you’re ready to leave.”

“As per usual, escort required,” she replied. Even someone who worked with the Devas regularly as a consultant didn’t have much more freedom than any other visitor; she was still just a civilian.

Derek turned and left the room, followed by Scott and Boyd and the three remained gathered at the door as they closed it, leaving it unlocked.

Boyd crossed his arms as he relaxed back against the wall to the right of the door. “Where are you going?” he asked and Scott looked a bit confused. “He wouldn’t have told me to stick around if he was going to be here,” he elaborated to Scott, more accustomed to reading between the lines when Derek talked, then turned back to Derek. “So, what’s so important that you’re leaving your charge behind? It’s not like you to just shirk responsibility like that.”

“I’m not. He’s safe while he’s here. And with his dad in there, he’s not likely to want to go far. And he knows he needs to stay here, so it’s not like he’ll be trying to get away.” Stiles hadn’t done anything over the past day to indicate that he was looking for a way out.

“Fine, we don’t need to worry about your deductive reasoning. But where are you going to be?”

“I’m going to check out the Oni’s place. I’ve read through the report and what happened is straightforward enough. But I want to see if I can find anything they missed. I’ve already got permission.” He’d put that request in shortly after arriving that morning when he realized he was going to want to see the place himself.

“What do you think you’ll find that the cops and other Deva didn’t?” Scott asked.

“It’s nothing against them, but they weren’t looking for anything besides associated Oni. They were only giving anything connected to Stiles a cursory look and they admitted to that, saying they thought taking care of him was a priority and investigation was for the long-term. Well, I’m the long-term, so I’m investigating. Boyd, let me know if they ask for anything you need me to get while I’m out. Stiles doesn’t leave the building.”

“Of course.”

Derek was about to walk away when he saw Scott’s thoughtful expression. “What, Scott?” he asked curtly, wanting to get a quick answer so he could get out of there, forgetting that Scott didn’t actually respond well to that sort of tone, his young age coming forward in that he would sometimes get belligerent if he felt he was being unnecessarily ordered around.

Thankfully, he just answered, a bit distracted, “How did Lydia know about Stiles?” he asked.

“They grew up in the same town as I did. I figure them being the same age was a good enough indicator that they’d know each other. Apparently, they’re good friends.” He hadn’t thought to check for an affinity, needing to be concentrating on looking for a specific tint to their scents to pick up that connection.

“No, I don’t mean how they know each other. How did Lydia know Stiles had been found? He hadn’t been in our custody, cops or the other Deva didn’t contact anyone saying he was in their care. No one knew about Stiles until he was here, but didn’t she call us, saying she was going to get Stiles’ dad?”

Scott’s hearing was getting better to have caught that; now he just needed to learn control to not hear things he shouldn’t. “Yeah, she did.” He remembered being curious about that when he’d heard, too, but had gotten caught up in other things so he forgot to ask. “She’s a Reaper. She sees death, but that’s it. She can’t freely see into the future,” he mused thoughtfully.

“Well, there was a death: Stiles killed the Oni.”

“That would still require a lot more power than she has. She’s not powerful enough to see the death of someone she’s not in proximity to. Even someone close to her needs to be within twenty-four hours of their death for her to perceive it. And this is from official reports conducted by Devas that she is required to maintain concerning her abilities to be a consultant, so it’s not just her own accounting of her abilities.”

“Right, because those have never been wrong,” Scott muttered and Derek gave him a glare: some things were better kept to themselves. They all knew the Devas made mistakes, were no more capable to knowing exactly what cores and users could do than the general public, but they had to be careful that they didn’t announce that. They were supposed to be better than the general public by a much wider margin than they really were.

The problem had become that the rest of the world was catching up to the Devas in terms of understanding and they had no way to get back ahead.

Scott missed the look anyway. “What about it having to do with Stiles being the one to cause the death?”

Boyd chimed in as Derek thought that over. “Reapers are one of the more obscure dispositions. It seems to be reasonably different for every single user who awakens as one.”

Derek looked over to his friend, only hesitating a little in allowing his thoughts born out of his suspicious nature to actually guide his instructions. “Call Kira. Have her find someone who knows Reapers better than we do. For now, we keep on trusting that she’s on our side, or at least on Stiles’. She was relieved to see him; she does care about him. That at least was genuine and we’ll use that as a basis for how we proceed. Scott, keep the mic off, but watch from the observation room, just to be on the safe side.”

“Right, and if something happens, what exactly am I supposed to do? Someone who can see my death is pretty hard to stand up against.”

Derek gave Scott a flat look, raising his eyebrow in a way Scott usually described as his way of asking someone if they were really as stupid as they just made themselves sound. It did take Scott a few seconds after recognizing the look for him to seem to get why he was on the receiving end now.

“Right. I’m in the observation room. I have controls on the door locks and chemical suppressants that also alerts the building to a threat inside.”

“Huh, I guess that look does work,” Boyd mused. Scott gave him a glare. “What, it isn’t my fault I’ve never been on the receiving end of it.” Derek let out a sigh as he shook his head and turned to leave.

“I’ll let you know when I’m on my way back. It shouldn’t take long to figure out if there’s anything to find.” Boyd nodded as Scott called out a farewell to him and he headed to his desk to grab his jacket and look up the address for the apartment.

* * *

Because it had now been a few days since the Deva had moved against the Oni holed up in the apartment, there wasn’t much in the way of activity there anymore. It was taped off as a crime scene and that was it when Derek arrived. And because it was currently closed by the cops, Derek had to wait to be cleared to enter.

Derek hoped whoever came was a familiar face: there were some cops who didn’t like dealing with Devas, thought they shouldn’t work independently like they did. There weren’t too many like that, but dealing with one was enough for him.

He’d only needed to wait about ten minutes before he was met by an officer that he didn’t know, but cleared him easily enough to go into the apartment, handing him the sealed envelope of the scent samples he’d requested of everyone who’d been in the apartment. It was becoming more common for law enforcement to include scent samples of their officers as a thing they kept, like fingerprints and DNA, especially with him working in the area. This way he could go in knowing which scents he could ignore right off the bat.

He stepped into the apartment building and made his way up to the sixth floor, stopping just outside the door to open the envelope, holding it up to his nose, and inhaled deeply to get a solid identity on the different scents. There were two that he recognized from previous cases and that would make them easier to ignore. One more inhale and he felt ready to get to work.

He walked up to the taped door, pulling it away and unlocking the door with the key he’d been given by the cop, and stepped inside, closing the door behind him.

There was nothing spectacular about the apartment, Derek noted as he walked in and through the living room. The kitchen with a small dining area was off to the right as the left led to a hall with two doors. One would be a bathroom and the other was the room Stiles had been in. The Oni had slept on the couch, making sure to always be between the captive and the exit. Looking at the hall closer, he saw that there were wires lining the width of the hall, all below knee-level and all connected to a box set at this end of the hall, Derek recognizing it as an alarm system.

He guessed that was a good enough way to make sure a blind guy didn’t make a break for it. Looking closer at the walls revealed dozens of holes, indicating that the wires had been moved often, likely as a way to make sure Stiles didn’t just learn where they were and work around them; he’d already proven that he was entirely capable of finding his way around obstacles.

Though, that did beg the question of how Stiles had gotten the jump on the Oni to kill him. He could see the blood stain from the Oni’s head wound in the middle of the room, a good six or seven feet from the closest trip wire. And even the remaining distance was littered with trash and clothes, buildup from someone who didn’t care about a clean space, being in the same place for an extended period of time.

He stepped a bit further into the room, looking around and seeing nothing of interest. So, he looked deeper in the way the cops couldn’t. Between breaths, his core flared as he focused on lowering the tight control he had on his core’s power, the control that suppressed much of his senses. It was impossible to completely repress his enhanced senses, but he got pretty close to what everyone else’s limitations were.

Derek felt like the world around him was coming into focus, like someone with impaired vision putting on glasses after being without for a while. And it was like that every time. With his repression eased, his sight was able to pick up absolutely everything within view, his smell able to identify a blend of old and new scents, and his hearing sharp enough to count how many people were in the building.

It was a stark difference from what he maintained in his day-to-day that he was always a little baffled that he maintained it, considering how much weaker and unprepared it made him feel. He wasn’t required to dull his senses – being a born Shifter meant he’d gotten used to the sensory input when he was a kid – but people got antsy around him when they knew he could hear, see, and smell everything about them. He did it for the comfort of others.

He paid attention mostly to his smell, sorting through all the scents in the apartment so he could ignore what didn’t matter. Already knowing what scents belonged to law enforcement, he ignored those first, then worked through the environmental ones that meant nothing but a place messily lived in, and then he was left with what was more applicable to what he was looking for. There were still plenty of scents to figure out; there were all the emergency personnel that had come and gone and they were easy to identify because they were fresher. He stepped further into the living room, then into the hall and noting how much stronger the spicy, familiar scent of Stiles was, it practically absorbed into everything because of how concentrated it was here in comparison to past the hall. The bathroom and bedroom doors were right across from each other with all wires placed just beyond the two door frames, as though they were marking off where Stiles was allowed to exist.

He wondered how Stiles had managed to survive his own active nature for so long being so limited.

Because past that line of wires, there was only the barest hint of Stiles’ scent, a few days old and it being a straight line to where the Oni had been killed. Everything indicated that Stiles had left his allotted space once and it had been to kill his captor.

How’d he get past the tripwires without hitting one or there being any indication that he’d explored prior to a few days ago? And the report had said Stiles had snuck up on the guy. There had been nothing in there about him running into one of the wires on his way out. He’d actually nearly surprised the Deva by stepping up and taking the Oni out, he’d remained concealed well enough. That meant there had been absolutely no misstep in his approach. The current layout of the wires would have made that impossible for someone who couldn’t see.

Moving past the questions, Derek went back to the scents and noticed something: there was a touch to a stronger scent that Derek recognized: the Oni had been an Elemental. Another inhale and he noted how there were actual displaced scents, chemical smells that were primarily in the kitchen in spots of the living room and he figured it had been the work of a Sidhe, someone controlling the air.

It was something that Derek had learned while still a kid: people’s scents were changed when they used their core. They’d still be identifiable, but it could be much harder to pick up through the energy dispersed by the core. And each core had its own specific scent that Derek was still working on getting all memorized, primarily because he didn’t get exposure to all the different dispositions.

Either way, the Oni had at least built up his power and started to disperse it recently. It might have been the reason he’d missed Stiles walk up on him. And Elementals tended to need a lot of concentration for the most basic use of their abilities: Derek considered it the natural balance for the disposition not requiring much latent power to do a lot.

It almost succeeded in covering up another scent, one that was not as prominent as the Oni, but still present enough to give away that it was a regular visitor who had spent a significant amount of time there.

There had been a second Oni tasked with watching over Stiles here, Derek assumed.

Nothing in any of the reports hinted at that and neither had Stiles. At least where Stiles was concerned, it was entirely possible he hadn’t known, his blindness and seclusion working against him. But something should have come up somewhere in the investigation. Between the Deva involved and a police department that wasn’t actually inept, Derek had a hard time believing it had just been missed.

And, unfortunately, the scent wasn’t so fresh that Derek could get a hint of it beyond the enclosed room. All he could do was commit the particular scent to memory and know that it would catch his attention if he ever smelled it again. It meant not suppressing his senses until the case was resolved, but that wasn’t his problem. It wasn’t like he had to tell anyone he wasn’t restraining himself.

There were definite perks to living in times where cores and users were being allowed privacy.

But then he made the realization that he couldn’t actually say for sure which Oni had been the Elemental. With it having been a Sidhe, the scents had mingled and been disrupted so he couldn’t actually declare that the Oni that had been killed was the one he was smelling the core discharge of. The Elemental could be the one that was still out there.

He took in a final deep breath, making sure he’d gotten everything and was about to leave when he had another thought and figured it wouldn’t hurt to check. So, instead of leaving, he walked further in towards the hallway. Stepping around all the tripwires easily, he made his way back to the room Stiles had been kept in. The further back he went, the less prominent the scent of the Oni was as everything was overpowered by the existence of Stiles and only Stiles.

He opened the door at the end of the hall and stepped into the room. It had the basics: a bed, dresser, and small TV in the corner. Boring, but at least not inhumane. The Oni had apparently decided that people were better prisoners when there weren’t horrible conditions to live in. The bed had good enough sheets and blankets. A quick check of the dresser revealed a few changes of clothes that were clean and in good shape.

He had to ignore the urge to give a smirk at the thought that the TV was likely a matter of self-preservation for the Oni: it was something to keep Stiles entertained in a way that wasn’t talking to them. He doubted it worked all that well, having spent a day with the younger man and not yet finding something that completely engaged Stiles’ attention that it deterred his talking, not for long.

And Derek didn’t dismiss the possibility that Stiles would purposefully be trying to annoy his captors and would be subjecting them to his worst ramblings when he at least tried to be considerate to Derek.

Maybe Stiles was more lucky to be alive than anyone gave him credit for.

Overall, it wasn’t the worst room he’d seen the Oni hold a captive in.

Moving on to what he’d really come back here to do, he again focused on the scents he was picking up. More specifically, he paid closer attention to the differences in Stiles’ scent that were caused by emotional state or the use of his core.  Something to give him any answer as to why the Oni had targeted and held him. It was a lot of effort that very few Oni had actually followed through on.

Most Oni worked within the short-term, there only being a few that followed some grander scheme and recruited others to work together. Those were the most dangerous and the ones Devas existed to face. He had to know if that’s what they were up against now.

Boredom was the overall impression, the room reeking with it in all corners. A few hints here and there of anger or the more muted irritation. Some amusement and excitement.

Derek frowned as something that had been nagging at him came to the front of his mind at a realization: there was no hint of fear. Stiles hadn’t been afraid in here, at least not for a long time. And with the room closed off like it was, scents would have stuck around longer than they did in any other part of the apartment.

But he’d been looking for recent fear, something that spiked from the Deva finding the place and Stiles going out to attack and kill the Oni.

Because Stiles had been pretty nonplussed about killing someone all along. Even if it had been an Oni, it was still a person. Good people didn’t just not care about killing someone. And Derek hadn’t seen, heard, or smelled anything in Stiles that made him feel like he wasn’t a good person.

But it was almost as though he’d had time to get used to the idea.

There was no disposition that allowed someone to travel through time. It was impossible as far as cores were concerned. But _seeing_ through time, looking at the past or getting an idea of the possible future, that was possible. Extremely rare, as dangerous to the user as a core could be, but possible.

Stiles had even said his disposition had been connected to his vision so it fit.

It was very likely that Derek was now responsible for a Beholder and he was the only Deva who knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay for pre-posting edits as they make it so I don't contradict details that are important later! That apartment scene was a killer on details but I'm mostly sure I fixed it all.  
> Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Feel free to ask questions and I'll answer what I can without giving spoilers.  
> See you next chapter!  
> Happy New Year!


	4. Beholder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intel and planning it out...

The return journey to the Deva’s office was a roundabout one as Derek needed a little extra time to figure out his approach to Stiles after his potential discovery of his disposition. Because he didn’t actually know for sure if Stiles was really a Beholder. He could be a Reaper, like Lydia. A little more common, a little less dangerous overall. After all, Reapers didn’t constantly live with the danger of losing track of when they were and essentially going insane.

There weren’t many happy stories of Beholders. No one who had ever awakened as a Beholder was recorded to ever be happy about it, to have wanted it to be their disposition. And there had been a lot of abuse towards them in the past, so many of them used against their will that there was no incentive for them to come forward and say they were Beholders. Reapers just had a bit more of a dark reputation that followed them, superstition that made people think that Reapers caused death instead of just being acutely aware of it. Sadly, it was still better than Beholders got.

Dismissing that depressing train of thought, Derek considered that while Reapers differed in how they were aware of someone’s death, only a few were actually able to see how it happened. Even Lydia’s ability was more a sense of someone’s life coming to an end. And there was no distinction between someone staying dead or being resuscitated and many Oni had tricked Reapers just by stopping their hearts and having someone bring them back.

Lydia had always been clear in that she never got used to actually seeing death, in actually seeing a body after there was nothing of the person left alive rather than feeling that they were approaching their death. And, sure, Stiles was a different person, but Derek didn’t get the impression that he was much different in that regard.

He could be wrong – if nothing else, Stiles was the son of a Sheriff and kids of cops, especially curious ones like Stiles, would have learned about the world when he was young, figured out what people were capable of earlier than he should have – but he doubted he was so off-base as to not see Stiles would be the kind to not care about killing someone. That would be the level of wrong that would mean he couldn’t spot an Oni. That multiple Devas, U.E.A. agents, and local law enforcement couldn’t identify someone content with killing.

And there had been moments over the past day where Derek knew that Stiles was upset and hiding it. It just wasn’t happening enough and Derek had watched him go through such a range of reactions that he figured it would have been triggered more often. Derek had watched Devas going through the first time they’d had to kill an Oni and Stiles reminded him more of ones who had been through the requisite therapy: it was something they did but it didn’t keep them from living or doing what they needed to do.

So, assuming he was right and Stiles Stilinski was a Beholder, that would explain why the Oni had captured him. And with him being blind, also why they had just held him: they would need an Ouroboros to remove his core and pass it to someone else. Ouroboros were rare themselves with only about five hundred in the world at any time, they were heavily protected, and the last Oni Ouroboros had been killed a few years ago. And it had taken decades for that one to show up. Even one acting to earn the designation of Oni could be – and had been – catastrophic.

There was one more factor that was leading Derek’s doubt: a blind Beholder _shouldn’t_ be able to use their abilities, but that couldn’t be the case if Stiles had known when he had an opportunity to claim his freedom.

Derek just didn’t know enough about Beholders to know whether or not he was right. And he _really_ wanted to know if he was right or wrong. It would make all the difference in their situation.

At the next stoplight, he pulled out his phone and quickly pulled up Boyd’s contact and dialed, the other Deva answering on the second ring. “Everything alright?” Boyd asked as a greeting.

“Yeah. I need to make another stop before returning, so keep eyes on everything for a bit longer. Any problems on your end?” Derek relayed easily. He was so grateful Boyd was around to rely on, that he hadn’t been on assignment because there was no one else at the division Derek was as comfortable with.

“No. It’s just a dad reuniting with his son. They’ve only talked about what happened for a few minutes, but it was pretty vague, and then they moved on quickly to talk about local gossip. It didn’t seem like avoidance for sake of secrecy, though, more like Stiles noticed it was making the Sheriff upset so he changed the subject to spare him.”

Derek didn’t even bother asking how Boyd had known what they talked about: even though he’d told Scott to keep the sound in the observation room off, his hearing would have meant he likely still picked up everything being only one room away, even if he was trying not to listen. Scott was still working on his control – Derek helping him – and his progress was slowed by the guy being a lot more curious than he probably should be about things that should be private.

Derek just went with it for now.

“And Lydia?”

There was a pause, then Boyd sounded confused, “What about her?”

“Has she done anything to guide the conversation?” That girl always seemed to know more than she let on and if anyone knew what Stiles’ disposition was, it would likely be her.

“No, she’s barely said anything but chime in on what the Sheriff says. And nonverbals would be sort of lost on Stiles.”

“Watch for them anyway. She’ll still get nervous if they start talking about something they don’t want us to know about.”

“How are you more suspicious of them now than you were when you left?”

Derek hesitated in answering: it was, after all, only his theory that had nothing to support it. Then, he decided it didn’t matter. “I might have figured out Stiles’ disposition. If I’m right, we may not be being careful enough with our approach. Not because I think he’s an Oni.” He hastily tagged on the last statement as he realized how bad it sounded while he was questioning their behavior like he was. “I need more information from someone willing to offer it before I ask Stiles. Have you gotten in touch with Kira?”

“Yeah, she said she’ll stop by in a while, talk to you before you leave tonight. She made a point to say Lydia had never given us a reason to doubt her so cut her some slack in your paranoid brain.”

“I can’t tell: were those her words or did you paraphrase?”

“Her words, of course. Not my fault she said it exactly like I would. In all seriousness, the Devas in this area have relied on Lydia’s help for the past year. That long and someone would have picked up on something wrong. We are actually good at what we do.”

Derek wanted to just accept what Boyd was saying, but… “But we somehow missed Stiles being here.”

“If he’d been our case to handle, we’d have found him.” Boyd was dismissive but in a way that Derek knew it was him stating something he truly believed. And it wasn’t like Derek was denying it either: they _were_ good at what they did.

But they were also human, regardless of core disposition as they never made anyone infallible or beyond mistakes.

“Yeah, well I feel like playing this safe. I’ll be back soon.” Derek hung up before Boyd could get on him further. As much of a relief as it was to have someone he’d known for years working with him and keeping his head on straight by making him think through his decisions, sometimes he wished Boyd would just not ask.

It was about half an hour more drive to Alan Deaton’s clinic. While the guy was just a vet now, he’d spent years researching dispositions as a hobby, digging up every scrap of knowledge he could find, talking with users to weed out the truth from the embellishments, and just learning for the sake of knowing.

It’s how they had met: Deaton had interviewed Derek about being a born Shifter. Sure, Derek hadn’t told him much besides the basics, but Deaton had offered himself as a resource if Derek ever had to deal with something he didn’t know and wanted to look outside his resources as a Deva.

Derek pulled into the lot of the vet’s clinic, only seeing a few cars and hoping that meant he could get in and out quickly. Despite how blasé he’d seemed on the phone with Boyd, he was even more concerned leaving Stiles on his own, regardless of where he was.

He entered the lobby, taking a cursory look around at the few people waiting, only getting the standard glances in return. He walked up to the receptionist, pulling his Deva ID off his belt as he started speaking and holding it up. “I need to speak to Alan Deaton, if he’s not dealing with an emergency.”

He could see the receptionist, who hadn’t looked to him yet to finish typing whatever she was working on, preparing to refute him, but she managed to look first, see the ID, and stop herself. Then her expression got amusingly alarmed. “The Devas?” Derek felt the attention of the other customers on him. “Oh my god, is he in trouble? He’s not an Oni, is he?”

Derek raised an eyebrow at that, amused. “No, ma’am, he’s not an Oni or in trouble,” he made sure he spoke loud enough to be heard by the others watching them, then lowered his voice a little to continue. “I just need to talk to him about something. I’m sure you can understand my need for discretion concerning the subject.”

“Of course, sir. I’d never assume you’d tell me anything you weren’t supposed to. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to Mr. Deaton’s office and get him for you.” She stood and walked out from behind the desk as she spoke, her motions rushed in an amusing manner. A subtle inhale revealed her to be normal, no core, and that explained the nerves: Devas could be as intimidating to the general public as the highest military specialists.

If only people knew how many of them, while well-trained in their disposition, were only a few steps above the civilians. It was only through strategic assignments that they maintained the order they had.

The receptionist opened one of the doors and waved Derek in. He passed her and she gave him one last assurance that Deaton would be there in no time, then closed the door.

He took a quick look around, noting it hadn’t changed much in the five years or so since he’d last been there. He’d barely gotten a foothold with the Devas when he’d been here, still dealing his own loss – poorly – and doing what he could to actually recover instead of letting trauma rule his life. And even then, his hand had been forced a bit by the Devas: they didn’t tolerate their people bringing their baggage into fights against the Oni. They couldn’t have any of their actions be questionable.

Hearing someone approaching, he turned to the door and crossed his arms out of habit of not being comfortable with anything he was going to talk about. The door opened and Deaton stepped into the room, closing the door behind him to allow privacy.

The man hadn’t changed at all since the last time Derek had seen him.

“Derek, what a surprise to see you,” he said in greeting as he held out his hand, which Derek took and shook. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I’ve got some disposition questions and couldn’t think of anyone who would know better,” Derek answered honestly.

“Really? But aren’t you a Deva? There are people employed who have received degrees specializing in cores.”

“Most of whom were taught with curriculums compiled and referencing information you gathered and published. Besides, they are called all over the West Coast for consultation and may not be in a position to spare me a few minutes.”

“You assume I am?” Derek wished he could say for sure Deaton was messing with him but he’d never been able to get a solid read on the guy.

“I did say if you weren’t in an emergency when I asked for you. You’ve got other vets working here that can cover for you, anyway. Not that it’ll take that long.” Derek hesitated in making his last point, then wondered why. “Besides, I’m a Deva on official business. It does take precedence.”

Deaton gave him a kind smile, not that it meant much in Derek’s opinion. He was sure Deaton would be waring that smile no matter the situation. “Of course. I wasn’t trying to get out of anything. I told you I was available as a resource to you and I meant it. What would you like to know about?”

“Beholders.”

Derek actually felt a slight swell of pride at how that seemed to catch Deaton off-guard enough for his expression to momentarily falter.

“You know of one living?” Deaton asked after a short pause.

“Possibly. What I need to know, though, is everything you have on them.”

Deaton looked thoughtful for a moment. “Admittedly, not much compared to most other dispositions. Beholders are extremely rare. And any that do awaken are lucky if they make it past ten years of coming into their disposition.”

“Give me a basic rundown. I don’t care if it’s something I’m sure to know already.”

“Alright. Beholders hold the ability to perceive events besides the current moment. They can witness past events and get an idea of possibilities for what hasn’t happened yet.”

Knowing Deaton had a habit of dressing up what he said as a way to not give straight answers, Derek paraphrased him, “See the future.”

But Deaton shook his head. “That’s impossible. No one exists on a fixed path, as all Beholders who have offered insight to their abilities has stated. There are likely outcomes and that’s what Beholders are able to witness. The stronger they are the more outcomes and the further forward they can see.”

“What about looking back?”

“Not as limited but not without its dangers. The risk to Beholders, the reason they don’t make it very long is not a matter of mortality, but sanity. Beholders, more than any other disposition, betray nature and so they are constantly in danger of losing their place of the moment they are actually existing in.”

They’d touched on something Derek had been thinking about earlier and a thought occurred to him that he could actually question now. “Why is it such a huge risk? If they don’t access their abilities, there is no danger, right?”

“Beholders never stop using their ability once it awakens. The core is split between the hemispheres of the brain, the only core to do so and not be considered a Chimera since it is the same core, the two parts remain inseparable. The left hemisphere allows seeing the past while the right is how they perceive the future. The connection between the two is what allows the user to actually see what is currently happening. The challenge for the Beholder is that it’s impossible to tell the difference between the three. It all looks the same to them, nothing to distinguish this second from one a year ago or two weeks from now.”

“It’s all in the eyes.”

“Yes. The core is directly fused with the optic nerve so they literally see everything. It is as real to them as what the rest of us see. It is the strength of that reality that makes them lose themselves.”

Just like someone who experienced schizophrenia, where what they heard or saw was as real as anything else around them. Perception was everything, as Derek had been told over and over throughout the course of his education as a Deva and learning how to understand criminal activity that made someone an Oni.

“What are their treatment options if they lose track?”

“Sealing their cores is required. They can’t risk seeing something that worsens their state of mind. The issue then becomes whether or not they can dismiss what they saw and return to reality. When they lose their place, they tend to wander far away from now and it doesn’t just go away when the core is sealed. After all, they remember what they saw while they were getting lost. It’s only been recently that we have developed a more accurate understanding of psychology itself to truly help them, but no Beholders have been recorded since laws passed removing the requirement to register active cores.”

“That wasn’t long ago and some dispositions still require informing at least health care professionals because of how it may affect treatment options.” Beholders were among those exceptions.

“Yes, but no one has access to that without the individual’s permission, so it may as well not count. In all honesty, Beholders are already guaranteed a rough life and every allowance should be made for them. They are always at risk of losing reality, any head trauma can be catastrophic, and it isn’t only the Oni who only seem to value the disposition and not the person.”

Derek didn’t know Deaton well, but the intense expression he had and the forceful tone that had come forward as he spoke seemed out of character. “Deaton?” he asked, hoping to diffuse the build of emotions; they wouldn’t help him.

It wasn’t entirely effective. “Phoenixes were wiped out because of how close they come to violating nature and how that painted a target on them. Beholders may have suffered the same fate.”

“I thought cores going extinct was a myth because of the lack of genetic requirement for someone to have a core awaken.” Derek would admit this wasn’t his area of expertise as far as cores went. He only knew what he’d been taught in school.

“The genetic component is there. It’s a recessive gene that most of the world now carries because of how many generations of cores there’s been now. There is some measure of genetics involved for everyone who has a core, it just isn’t as obviously indicative as something like hair color or height. And not all cores have the same measure of genetic influence. But the dispositions that carry a stronger connection to genetics are obviously more susceptible to an act like genocide.

“Beholders only come from a parent that is a ‘carrier’ to use a more common but applicable term. The carrier isn’t a user themselves, though they come from a strong line of users, and every child they have will awaken as a Beholder. Can you imagine how long it took for that to be figured out? Even I couldn’t track down the source, but it has been given enough supporting evidence from what Beholders we’ve managed to gather details from.” Deaton took in a deep breath before he moved past Derek to lean against his desk. He looked deep in thought, conflicted, and Derek wondered why.

When he continued, he sounded distant. “They really are fascinating people, Beholders. Even though I’ve never met one, everything I’ve read or seen from them reveals such amazing people. Teenagers aged with wisdom. Young adults who just seem to have all the answers. All of them doing what they can to live all they can while knowing the greatest risk to them is their own mind. There’s always some measure of fatalist thinking but very few have surrendered to choosing to be sealed. They hold out as long as they can.”

Derek remembered something he’d read once in one of his countless disposition identification courses he’d had to take when he joined the Devas. “Beholders can’t be unsealed, right?”

“Correct. If their core is disconnected from their mind as a seal does, irreparable damage is done to the area that it connects to the body at. And without the connection, it eventually dies off. There has never been a successful unsealing of a Beholder’s core. All attempts have only resulted in permanent brain damage as the core ends up destroyed.”

“What about an Entrust?” Ouroboros, who performed Entrusts, were supposed to be able to move any core from one person to another, placing it as though it had always been there.

“No one has tried, as far as official records say. I imagine it to be just as impossible.”

Speaking of the impossible, Derek figured it was time to ask for details directly related to the current situation. “Is there anything that says the user has to be able to see for them to be able to use their ability?”

Deaton looked over to him with a frown. “Can you elaborate?”

“We have someone in protective custody. He’s blind, though we haven’t seen his medical records yet to confirm his explanation of how he got that way. He claims his optic nerve was damaged by the awakening of his core. I do believe him and he is definitely blind. But the circumstances of him coming to us, it made me think about what his disposition is. I believe he is a Beholder. I think he can still ‘see’ just not now.”

“That’s quite a leap of logic,” Deaton responded, it sounding a bit accusatory. But, at the same time, he didn’t have his same untouched composure. He sounded uncertain and seemed like he was either fishing for more details or stalling to think. “I couldn’t say one way or another with certainty. My understanding of Beholders would tell me no. However, there’s always an exception to the norm. There’s always that one outlier that forces us to alter our perception of our understanding.

“Derek, you have well-honed instincts. Your wolf Shifter disposition is designed to amplify those instincts to be more accurate. Your life experiences have pushed you even farther forward. If you trust those instincts to do their job of protecting you instead of doubted them, you will be an effective Deva. Remember, cores and the dispositions they take form through have very little to do with fixed science. They are human elements and therefore cannot always be understood or explained logically.”

Those were all, admittedly, good points. And they were things Derek did know but just didn’t think about often. He guessed as a Deva it was part of his job to see behind the actions of others, to only see the abilities of the cores he interacted with and not so much that hey had taken form because of the person. Perhaps it was something he needed to give a bit more of his time and attention to.

After all, the Deva Prominents were looking into changes to the organization because they felt there were ways they were behind the times, such as their approach to Chimeras. If they were looking to change what didn’t work, he should too.

“Thank you for your time,” Derek said after a short silence. “I appreciate your help.” He’d gotten something he’d needed, even if it wasn’t a certain answer to his questions concerning Stiles.

“Of course. I am always available to you. Don’t hesitate to call or stop by again if you have any more questions. But may I ask a favor in return?” Derek hesitated, then nodded for Deaton to continue. “If this person really is a Beholder, if blindness doesn’t stop their use of abilities, I’d very much like to meet them. Would you ask them for me?”

Derek bristled a bit at the request, then had to consider why he’d reacted like that. He settled on that it must have been a surge of his protective instincts, brought on by how he was more certain of the danger to Stiles.

But this was Deaton and he wasn’t a risk to Stiles. He wasn’t even a user. And he’d never pried further than Derek was willing to go when he’d interviewed him.

“If he’s ever released from protective custody, I’ll let him know you’re interested,” he answered as evenly as he could, thinking he hadn’t been noticed. “I’ll be in contact.” He turned and left before any more unexpected responses could make an appearance.

He needed to get back and check on Stiles, calm himself down, and get back on track. He couldn’t be compromised in this.

* * *

Derek stepped off the elevator and turned toward where he knew Boyd would still be standing guard. He’d been considering his next move over the return drive and was almost confident in the prospect of asking Stiles what his disposition was. After all, legal requirement notwithstanding, dispositions were most prominently why an Oni targeted someone.

Derek had a job to do, so manners were officially secondary.

Not seeing Boyd at a distant post outside the conference room, Derek continued to the observation room. He scanned his ID and stepped inside, then moved to stand next to his friend, Scott not there as he was likely called to see to some other task; Derek didn’t mind since he’d been gone longer than expected and the division had other assignments to complete besides Stiles’ protection.

Stiles, the Sheriff, and Lydia were still sitting around the table talking casually, the two Stilinski’s looking much more at ease now, like they really believed that they were reunited.

“You don’t look like you’re going to accuse Stiles of being an Oni,” Boyd observed.

“No, I don’t think he’s an Oni.”

“Good to hear. I’m pretty sure his dad would have murdered us all and successfully framed someone else for the crime if we tried anything.”

Derek didn’t disagree. He’d only spent a few minutes around Sheriff Stilinski but that was enough to see how strong and resourceful the man would have to be. If nothing else, _Stiles_ would be the one he had to have those traits for.

Speaking of, he didn’t think in the least that Stiles would just go along with anything if the accusation was made.

“So, what now? Do we have anything remotely resembling a plan? A lead?”

“I need to contact the Deva responsible for targeting the Oni holding Stiles, ask him about known accomplices. There had been someone else at the apartment recently. I also picked up the scent of a Sidhe Elemental and I need to know if that was the Oni killed or the visitor.”

“That’s not much.”

“It’s more than I had when I left. Everything about this situation has been with minimal intel; get used to it being the case.” He turned toward his friend, leaning against the one-way mirror and crossed his arms. “We’re Devas: it’s our job to do what needs to be done to protect people against Oni. Just because we don’t usually go into things without careful planning doesn’t mean we can’t take that approach. I’d say we’ve been lucky to not have dealt with something like this more often.”

Boyd paused and then gave him a nod before asking, “Do you still want to talk to Kira about Lydia?”

Derek had actually forgotten that he’d asked about her, distracted as he’d gotten with figuring out Stiles’ disposition.

“Not today,” he decided quickly. “A Reaper we’ve hired isn’t where we need our focus to be, not when I’m sure she is at least on Stiles’ side.”

Boyd breathed a sigh of relief that Derek was almost positive was genuine. When he gave his friend a confused look, Boyd just raised an eyebrow at him. “What? I didn’t know if I should have been more worried about Kira’s wrath or Lydia’s for seeming like we’re doubting someone we claim to trust to help us. That you weren’t worried tells me I’m officially smarter than you. Until now, it’s only been ‘likely’ that I was.”

“Right,” Derek growled back sarcastically.

“Well, he’s back to being your charge. I’m gonna go call Kira and let her know you regained your senses.”

Derek just shook his head as Boyd walked out, the man looking entirely too satisfied. Derek stood up straight and turned to look inside the conference room, taking a moment to just observe the three sitting inside.

Stiles was sitting next to his dad with Lydia sitting across the table. All three of them were relaxed, Derek catching the looks that Sheriff Stilinski and Lydia were giving Stiles, the ones that told him how much they loved him, how happy they were to see him there and alright. It was those expressions, more than any logic, that allowed Derek to move past the suspicion that there was anyone involved so far that they couldn’t trust. He’d figure out how Lydia knew about Stiles, but he’d just talk to her about it instead of suspecting her of being a risk. She’d proven herself over the past year helping the Devas that she could be trusted and he wouldn’t disrespect that.

He'd also had the thought on the way from Deaton’s that it was possible that she had become a consultant because of Stiles’ disappearance and that she had been using the position to know when he was found. If that was the case, her help was genuine even as she got something out of it.

And there was a level of relaxation to Stiles that Derek hadn’t seen. In fact, he hadn’t even realized there had been tension there before because he hadn’t seen him without it. But it was unlikely that it was Stiles being distrustful, just that there was nothing familiar about his environment and effort was required for him to just get around and navigate everything. And he’d been with Oni for over a year, only interacting with people who were a threat and _some_ of that had to have gotten to him. Kira had warned him that not everything about trauma was obvious and Derek was struck by the fact that he had likely missed way more than he realized  in terms of indications of Stiles being affected by what had happened to him.

He was good, Derek would give him that.

Derek actually didn’t want to intrude, didn’t want to disrupt Stiles’ calm – ironic to say considering he was just as vocal and animated with his hands as he’d been with Derek and Scott – but he did need to talk to all three of them and work out what would be allowed while the Devas were responsible for Stiles.

He watched for a little while longer before he left the observation room and went right for the door of the conference room, knocking twice to announce himself before he opened the door and stepped inside.

“I’m sorry for interrupting, but there are a few things I need to discuss with you guys,” he said, watching as Stiles’ expression got just a little more excited once he heard Derek’s voice. It wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting.

The Sheriff nodded and Lydia sat up straight in her chair as Derek approached and took the chair to her left, sitting across from Stiles.

“About time you got back,” Stiles said in greeting. “These guys are just pathetic conversationalists.”

Derek caught the Sheriff rolling his eyes with half a grin at his son.

“And you’re looking at me to improve that?” Derek asked before his brain caught up to how unprofessional it was. He’d already found some sort of rhythm with Stiles and it hadn’t even been a day. It had been a long time since that had happened, certainly not since he’d become a Deva.

Stiles laughed at it, though, and that made it worth it. Derek liked it when Stiles laughed, liked how pure it sounded.

Derek caught the curious look Lydia shot to the two of them out of the corner of his eye; she thought something about that exchange was interesting.

But he dismissed it and focused back on the two Stilinskis. “Sheriff Stilinski, I’d understand you wanting Stiles to return to Beacon Hills with you, but it’s just not something we can approve with the status of the investigation into his capture and the Oni that had held him.”

“What’s the status? The Oni is dead,” the man replied, his tone one of an authority figure and Derek really had to focus to remember that he had the presiding authority here now. He just felt really inclined to let the other man be in charge.

Feelings like that were why he didn’t think he should have operational command over the division.

“ _An_ Oni is dead. I still need to speak directly with the Deva who found Stiles, but I have no reason to believe he was acting alone, not when all he did was watch Stiles and keep him in the apartment. There aren’t many cases where an Oni doing that are working alone. And, all things considered for what’s happened, I’m going with the majority on this.”

“Then what’s your plan? Have Stiles follow you around indefinitely? I reported Stiles missing sixteen months ago, said that I suspected it was an Oni because I have nothing for people to target me over so much that they’d kidnap my son. And then I spend the foreseeable future being the one to pick up the phone to ask if there’s anything. Then one of your kind just happens to stumble on Stiles when he’s not even looking for him. You’ll forgive me if I don’t see much reason to have faith in what you plan to do with my son.”

Stiles was fidgeting nervously, Derek hearing his foot bouncing off the floor quickly, but he stayed quiet; Derek figured he wanted to hear the answer but wasn’t too happy with how hostile his dad had gone about asking. After all, he’d never shown any objection to being here.

But Derek had expected this much. So, his answer was even and confident. “I plan to protect him. I plan to do everything in my power to keep him safe.”

“Oh yeah? Well so do I. What almighty disposition do you have that makes you more capable of doing that than I am?”

Derek figured he knew what Stilinski wanted to hear, so he shot that down right away. “I’m not a Paladin, if that’s what you’re looking for.” The man’s expression hardened a little and Derek scented his disappointment; he had been hoping for that, to hear that the disposition that had the nearly accurate reputation for the strongest warriors wasn't Derek. “We don’t have any Paladins assigned to this division. We don’t have any Qilin either. Those dispositions aren’t as common here as they are in other parts of the country. But I’m a born Shifter, a wolf: and that counts for more than anyone ever gives it credit for.”

“How so?”

“I was born with enhanced senses and strength. Paladins have to learn to access and control their enhancements. I have to always suppress my abilities where they have to access them to be on the same level. While I don’t have the same battle instincts as they do, I have trained for many years to be a Deva, to hold the position that I do. Stiles couldn’t be safer than he is with me; I promise you that.”

It had been easier to say that than Derek had expected. He had never made a habit of detailing his abilities unless for reports – it felt too much like bragging – but he needed Stilinski to trust him. It was important to him that Stiles’ only family trusted him to be the one looking after Stiles.

Maybe there was someone better – hell, there was definitely someone better than _him_ – but he was the one responsible now and he tended to get a little territorial.

One of the things he’d like to blame on his core but was likely more simply his personality.

And he’d already felt that his urge to protect Stiles was strong, even more so now that he was confident he knew why the Oni were after him. Stiles didn’t deserve to spend his life looking out for the next Oni. No one really deserved that, but he’d take what was more feasible.

“Dad,” Stiles suddenly said in a low voice. Stilinski looked over to his son, observing him carefully even though it seemed like he wanted to say something. Derek suspected it would have been something to take command. “It’s not him. He’s not the threat. He’s actually pretty damn awesome.”

Derek felt his cheeks warm a little at that, feeling like it was just about the only thing that would really cut through Stilinski’s protective defenses over his son. Because that’s exactly what it did, the man seeming to deflate a little as he let out a heavy sigh.

“Fine, but we do the next decision like this my way. Last time it was Lydia, this time you call it, next one is mine.”

Derek really had to remember to get an answer when he asked what Stilinski meant by that because it felt important, especially since Stiles’ eyes darted up in Derek’s direction when it was said, going for a nonverbal cue for his dad that Derek was lucky to have caught.

But Stilinski had turned back toward Derek and was giving him an expectant look. “Well, it’s on you. What are we going to do?”

Derek took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly to collect himself. “I have a few more contacts to make to try and track down other Oni involved. If I can get a name, we can act and remove the threat. Once we’re sure everyone involved is taken care of, Stiles is free to return home.

“In the meantime, he’ll stay with me like he did last night. I have an extra room at my place and he’s welcome to do whatever he wants to it to make it his own, to be comfortable. He mentioned that you would have a cane for him to use and I was wondering about any other adaptive equipment that can be sent over to make staying there as convenient as possible. It should have been worked out for him getting a phone from us so he can keep in contact with you as he pleases.

He turned to Stiles, then reached across the table and tapped his hand that was resting in front of him, Stiles tensing a little but he must have heard Derek shifting because he didn’t startle.

“You have to have a Deva with you at all times. Even when you’re in this building, you have to remain within sight of myself, Boyd, or Scott. They are the only other ones I’m clearing to have any official involvement with your protection.” He looked back over to Stilinski. “If you don’t see any of the three of us when you are with Stiles in public, call in an emergency. I’ll give you a direct number for our emergency responders and the name to give dispatch if you just call 9-1-1.” The man nodded, his expression severe as he took in all the details. This was definitely an experienced cop at work with him now.”

“Wait, so I’ll be able to meet up with him and Lydia in public?” Stiles asked.

“As long as you clear it with whichever one of us is with you.” He considered not saying anything else but was again compelled by the need to have Stiles feel safe. “You aren’t a prisoner with us, Stiles, and I want that to be the last thing you feel like. I want you to have as much freedom as you possibly can while still allowing me to keep you safe.”

“What are their dispositions?” Stilinski asked as Stiles gave Derek a warm smile and Derek had to shake off the distraction of admiring the sight.

He really needed to get himself together.

“Scott is also a wolf Shifter, though he is awakened instead of born. He hit it off well with Stiles and that’ll help his instincts kick in stronger for being aware of danger. Boyd is a Berserker.”

Stiles looked surprised. “Really? That softy is a Berserker? I thought they were all supposed to be big, burly, mean people who didn’t say please to their moms.”

“Stereotypically profile much, Stiles?” Lydia accused, though it saved Derek from saying something equally sarcastic and unprofessional, if only because Boyd had teased him a lot already through the day.

Instead, he just continued answering Stilinski’s questions of details he thought would help put him at ease. “Both of them are very capable fighters. Boyd has worked with me for many years and he has an impressive mission record against Oni. I trust them with this because they’ve earned it. And Stiles is already familiar with them so he doesn’t need to put anyone new through the ringer of getting to know them.”

“Okay. All that sounds reasonable. I only have one question: when you find this other Oni that was responsible, what happens to him? How can you guarantee that my son will be safe?”

Derek raised an eyebrow at that. “Can you guarantee that the next person you arrest will be the last criminal and that no one will ever be in danger again?” he retorted. It was a little rude, but he felt like it needed to be said. And who better to understand than a cop, a Sheriff no less.

And Stilinski’s expression remained fixed, like it was an answer he’d been expecting, Derek figuring he’d just been put through another test.

“No, I can’t. And I don’t expect you to be able to either. I just never want to spend months on end wondering if I’ll ever see him alive again.”

Stiles slid his hand across the table, searching, grasping at his dad’s arm when he found it. He held tight, comforting the man as best he could while Stilinski continued to stare at Derek.

He then let out another deep sigh and then turned toward his son before wrapping his arm around Stiles’ neck and pulling him close. “I mean it, Stiles: do what they tell you to do. I can’t take something like this again.”

Stiles turned his face into his dad’s shoulder and Derek barely heard him mutter his response, figuring that Stiles didn’t know he could hear.

“Neither could I.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, I really did forget just how much ended up in this chapter. A lot of varying degrees of importance for information to be had. Heh.  
> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed, feel free to ask and I will answer if it wasn't a purposeful vagueness.  
> See you next time.


	5. Are You?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek bites the bullet and just asks Stiles about what he hasn't told him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and comments! I love knowing that people are enjoying the fic. Hope you all continue to enjoy.

Derek was procrastinating, at a level that he was convinced he’d never procrastinated before. Not even in high school, and he’d been a lazy ass in high school.

He couldn’t help it: he _really_ didn’t want to press Stiles about his disposition. Not when the happiness that had gotten into him from seeing his dad and friend hadn’t faded in the time since those two had left the Deva’s office – his dad declaring he was heading home and then driving back tomorrow with some of Stiles’ things, like his laptop and the adaptive equipment he had for it, some of his clothes, and one of his canes just in case – so Derek wasn’t looking forward to bringing up something that was practically guaranteed to destroy the good mood.

So, he’d taken a seat at the island separating the living room from the kitchen, pulled out his laptop to bring up some reports he’d gotten over the past few days he needed to read, and pretended to work while Stiles found a movie to listen to.

They’d stayed across the room from each other for over an hour without saying a word to each other, something that hadn’t happened since they’d met.

Derek considered that maybe Stiles had something he was thinking about, too, something that was giving him his own reason to be silent when he’d proven himself to be someone who wasn’t comfortable in silence.

But he needed to talk to Stiles about this. It was his job. It was something he needed to know to do his job. He had a responsibility to talk to Stiles, no matter how much he didn’t want to.

“You know, I can hear you thinking over the movie, right?” Stiles suddenly said, his voice raised enough to cross the room and catch Derek’s attention. Derek tensed, then looked over his shoulder toward Stiles, who was still lounging on the couch facing toward the TV.

He shook off his surprise and leaned back on the chair, turning a bit toward the younger man. “Oh, really? Your powers of perception are that acute, huh?”

He caught the corner of Stiles’ lips quirk up. “Not at all. You just have absolutely no skill at making it subtle when you’re uncomfortable around me.”

“Is that so?” Derek hedged. Even with Stiles having broken the silence, he still felt no more inclined to want to talk than he was before. “How do you know I’m not just unhappy about what I’m reading?”

“Because I know where you went today,” Stiles replied as casually as he’d said anything else.

Derek turned around to face Stiles completely. He really needed to start giving Stiles more credit than he did; maybe then he wouldn’t be caught off-guard so often by him.

“You do?” He was surprised that he’d managed to sound as noncommittal as he did.

“You did a pretty good job hedging it; I’ll give you that and my dad definitely missed it or he would’ve grilled you mercilessly about it. But you’re not good enough to get that past me. After all, I am the master of answering by not answering.” Derek had been figuring that out about Stiles.

Deciding the only time he’d actually made progress with Stiles – or with anything, really – was when he just went at it directly, Derek stood and walked over to the couch, making sure he stepped a bit heavier than he usually would, and sat down on the opposite end as Stiles, giving him space. Stiles shifted, turning so his back rested against the armrest and crossed his legs on the cushion in front of him, the lines around his eyes already tense.

“I went to the Oni’s apartment,” Derek admitted. He felt it was important that he actually say it.

Stiles gave an exaggerated gasp and put his hands over his face dramatically. “Oh my god, I had no idea!” He relaxed back but there were no indications that he was covering being upset. “You gotta know that I would have been irreparably disappointed in you if you _hadn’t_ gone there yourself?”

Derek was too nervous about what he had to ask to even think of a rebuke. He wanted to get this over with, no matter how nonchalant Stiles was being about it.

“They had a pretty good setup to keep you back there.” He wanted Stiles to tell him instead of assuming how things had been for him. He hated when people did that to him so he actively avoided it.

“Those fucking tripwires were a pain in the ass. Or, I guess, the shins. Did the cops take out the vents with the chloroform?”

Derek hadn’t only not seen that, but he hadn’t caught the scent of it having been there.

“They must have. I didn’t see or smell it there, not even an old scent like it had just been a while since it was there.”

Stiles looked perturbed about that, then downright angry. “That asshole! I bet he took it out when I went such a long time without hitting the wires. The alarm it was set to was for his sake, to make sure he moved away so he didn’t get knocked out too. But even I get fed up with the bruises from the fall and the headache from getting knocked out.”

“How often did you try?”

“Daily for the first few weeks. It took him a while to realize that I never hit the same one twice. And I almost made it to the end of the hall past the vent so I could make a break for it and avoid getting gassed by the time he did figure it out. But once he did, he started moving one every day. For a while, they were even going at all levels instead of just below the belt, but only when I was doing it often. Hell, after I realized that he was better established to keep me there than I was to get out, I just did it for something to do.”

“The room was pretty bare,” Derek mentioned.

“He had to limit my options, couldn’t give me anything I could use against him. Food was given to me in paper bags and never anything that needed silverware. Paper cups and the bathroom faucet for water. And he told me that if I broke the TV to try and attack him with it, he wouldn’t replace it. I decided my sanity was more important than a chance at getting away that might not work. But, once a week was laundry, new thrift store clothes every few months, even got me a digital player of some sort with some audiobooks he’d put new ones on every week once I stopped tripping the alarm. It kept me quieter if I had something else to keep me occupied.”

It really had just been all about keeping Stiles in Oni hands for as long as they could.

“What about the Oni’s disposition? Did you ever find that out? Was he the Sidhe that I caught the scent of?”

Stiles looked curious. “You can tell dispositions of people?”

Derek figured it wouldn’t hurt to tell Stiles how that worked. “When someone accesses their core, the power it puts out has a scent. Sometimes it just alters the person’s scent in a way I can trace, but usually it’s just another scent in the room. And with Sidhe’s and their manipulation over wind, the scents in the room just tend to get jumbled. But in the apartment, a Sidhe’s power had only been built up, not used so it hadn’t disturbed anything.”

“Huh, that’s pretty awesome. I figure you’d always smell a core on people since it’s always there.”

“So are your organs, but I don’t smell those unless there’s something wrong with them.” Derek didn’t mean for that to be a sarcastic comment, but the grin Stiles gave him told him that’s how it was taken. “Was the Oni holding you the Sidhe?”

Stiles sobered up quickly. “Nah, it wasn’t him. That was just someone else that stopped by once a month with supplies. He’d been there a few days before the Deva and cops showed up. They’d argued a bit and he must have made a show for intimidation factor.”

Fair enough assumption: a talented Sidhe could suffocate someone easily. And if this was the one calling the shots concerning Stiles being taken, Derek would just assume it was something he was capable of. Because Derek had long ago learned the hard lesson of assuming a person was capable of more rather than less.

“What about the other one?” Derek wanted to know if Stiles had ever known what the person that held him was capable of.

“He was either a Djinn or a Projector. I remember when I was taken that someone touched my arm before my ears started ringing and I passed out. Both of those alter perception and are completely capable of making me hallucinate some sound until it knocked me out. But that was the only time they used their abilities against me so I can’t be sure past that.”

Derek made a mental note to call or text Boyd later to look into all Djinn and Projectors in the area and see if they could get an ID on him before he talked to the other Deva involved.

In the meantime, he just needed to bite the bullet and get this over with.

“I noticed something in the report that was corroborated when I saw the apartment.” Stiles made a questioning sound and Derek charged forward. “You didn’t hit one of the wires and set off the alarm when the Deva came to the apartment. He arrived and was squaring off with the Oni, getting ready to take him into custody when you came up behind him and struck him over the head with a bat. The Oni had kept it in the living room just beyond the hallway leading back toward the room you were kept in, likely as a last resort if you did get past the tripwires.”

“The apartment had some pretty good soundproofing, but people still would have heard a gunshot,” Stiles mused and Derek frowned at how easily he’d said it.

“Did he ever use it against you?” Derek asked, figuring he could maybe get some sort of answer without having to ask.

“Told me he had it. Tapped it against an arm or leg a few times when he was back there taking care of something so I knew he did actually have it. There was one time I was _really_ bored and rambling for literally hours and he came back and hit the mattress with it next to me to get me to shut up.”

Nothing that should have told Stiles where it was to grab it without letting him know he was there before hitting him with it, Derek noted.

“The Devas report said that he almost attacked you because of how you came up behind the Oni, that you didn’t do anything to bring attention to yourself before you attacked the Oni.”

“Yeah, I was pretty ninja about it,” Stiles said, but Derek heard how it was strained. So, he wasn’t as unaffected about it as he’d seemed until now. It was likely that he just hadn’t been made to face exactly what he’d done because they’d avoided questioning him extensively.

“Impressive for someone who’s blind. Even with my other senses enhanced, I wouldn’t have been able to do that, wouldn’t have known exactly where to step to remain completely unnoticed until I was close enough to hit the person.”

“What, are you saying I’m not blind? Damn, even I wouldn’t throw around an accusation like that. Besides, I have all the proof in the world that I am legit blind and have been for nearly ten years.”

“You’re blind; I’m not questioning that. Even being around you for only a day, you would have slipped if you were faking it and someone would have caught it. What I believe is that your loss of sight didn’t affect your access to your abilities, that your blindness was your body’s way of protecting you against the dangers of your disposition.”

Stiles slouched back a little more against the armrest in a way that seemed like he was trying to hide in as subtle a way as possible without just getting up and leaving.

Derek was sort of surprised that he hadn’t walked away.

“That’s what you figured out, huh?”

Derek leaned forward, reaching his hand across the cushion between them and touched his fingers to Stiles’ knee. He just felt like it would be of a comfort to Stiles and he wanted to be comforting.

“Stiles, are you a Beholder?” he asked, finally able to say it directly, though just as worried that he was about to ruin something about what they’d managed to build between them already.

Honey brown eyes lifted up to direct toward him but didn’t quite get the angle right so it was like he was looking just over Derek’s right shoulder. His expression was thoughtful, though Derek didn’t get the feeling he was about to be shut out. In fact, he was pretty sure what he saw in Stiles’ expression was relief.

“In all seriousness, how the hell did you reach that conclusion?” Stiles asked instead of giving an answer and Derek had to hold in a growl of frustration. He had really thought Stiles would give a clear response. “I have never met anyone who just happened to come to that conclusion. And definitely not in less than two days of learning of my existence. Hell, I had to tell Lydia and she’s a genius.”

“Then it’s true?” Derek tried again.

“Yeah, it’s true. One hundred percent full disclosure, I am a Beholder. Now, I’m completely serious: I want to know how the hell you reached ‘Beholder’ just by looking at that apartment. I’ve never used my core there so there was no scent for you to pick up on. All I did was just exist there for over a year.”

Derek shrugged before he remembered that it did Stiles no good for him to do that.

“I don’t know. I just had the thought and the more I found out, the more sense it made.” He paused and slid forward, sitting a little closer to Stiles. “Oni may be unpredictable, difficult to fight against and contain, but their actions have always been guided by one goal: getting stronger. The easiest way they’ve found to do that is to get their hands on rare and powerful cores.”

“And people say there’s not much more powerful than the ability to see the future.”

Derek was reminded of what Deaton had told him, how even he had admitted that there were a lot of gaps in the knowledge of Beholders. There were simply too few of them and with the risk to their sanity meant that there was an even shorter time for information to be gathered.

It was ironic that having a core usually meant a slightly longer lifespan because of how the core altered the body’s functionality just enough to improve general health, but for Beholders, that just meant longer that they would have to suffer.

“How does it work with the damage to your vision?” Derek asked, mostly in an attempt to distract himself from his own morbid thoughts.

“I guess the same way it does for anyone who wasn’t blinded. I activate my core, tap into the side of my brain that I want to see, and strap in for whatever it is I end up seeing. Difference is I know exactly when ‘now’ is because it all goes black again."

There was already a discrepancy. Did Stiles not look into his own disposition?

“But that isn’t how the abilities of a Beholder usually works.” Stiles gave him a suspicious look. “I made another stop, talked to someone who’s made a living off of knowing about cores and the different dispositions. He told me that there isn’t a time when a Beholder’s core isn’t accessed. They always see through their core and that’s why they go insane. There’s nothing to separate what’s happening then from any other time.” Stiles considered it for a short time, then shrugged, seeming to dismiss it just like that. And Derek had no idea if he really was or not. Derek let out a sigh and moved his hand from Stiles’ knee to grasp at his bicep, giving it a brief squeeze before letting his hand fall away. “Look, I don’t care what your disposition is. It doesn’t change anything.”

Stiles leaned back again and crossed his arms. “Really? You don’t want to just take a look and figure out everything you need to know about that Sidhe? It’s just a few minutes of your time, apparently; it doesn’t feel like the same amount of time to me when I’m taking a peek.”

Stiles’ voice was short, cold, like he was just saying something he expected to hear. And, Derek guessed, he had a good reason to think that. Historically, not many people treated Beholders well.

So, Derek stood up and said dismissively, “No, I have a division of Devas who are perfectly capable of figuring this out on their own. We don’t need a shortcut just because it happens to be there.”

He took a few steps away when he heard Stiles rush to his feet. He paused when Stiles stepped toward him and he waited for Stiles to get close enough to reach out and take hold of his sleeve. He hadn’t expected Stiles to do that, wasn’t sure _why_ he’d done it, so he just stood there and waited.

When Stiles did speak again, it was in a whisper and in a tone that held a measure of determination, like he’d convinced himself that this was what he needed to do. “We can see pretty far when we work together, Lydia and me. It’s not clear, but the impressions are stronger than we normally get. We formed an affinity when we were sixteen; we went to the same school for a while and ended up becoming friends after we did a project together. When the affinity took hold, we both saw something that made absolutely no sense at the time.”

It wasn’t uncommon for the connection born between two individual’s cores because of love between them, the affinity, to enhance certain aspects of their abilities. It was usually as a way to increase their awareness of the other person over great distances, depending on the type of affinity – affinities between family members, close friends, and romantic partners all had different properties because they were different kinds of love – and their dispositions.

“Nearly five years ago, I saw aspects of three days ago. I saw the layout of the apartment, the hall, the tripwires, the bat, and the back of his head; everything I needed in that moment. But she’s a Reaper and gets impressions of death. As soon as my vision blacked out again, she told me if I screwed up, a lot of deaths would be my fault. If I fought back, I’d screw it up. She had no idea what she meant, just that it was what she needed to say.” Stiles let out a short, empty laugh and Derek found he didn’t like the sound. “You’re the only one I’ve told all that to. Not even my dad knew all the details; he just knew Lydia and I saw something that would probably be tough for him to handle and that me not fighting back was what would get me out safe.”

Derek turned a little to look at Stiles. “You assumed a lot coming to that conclusion,” he stated. How could Stiles have taken such a risk with so many gaps in what the two of them saw? What if they’d been wrong since they only saw possibilities of what might happen.

“Beholders and Reapers are in the same boat about a lot. We both see things people shouldn’t see and both carry its own risk and ways of balancing out. But that doesn’t take away from what we are actually capable of. It’s not just that we see things: we feel them. We experience what we see with everything and the stronger we feel it, the more likely it is to be what happens. See, the thing is, there really are some things that happen that we just shouldn’t put our hands into, no matter how much we _know_. Knowing it’s coming doesn’t give us the right to get involved.”

Derek was positive he didn’t really understand where Stiles was coming from on this. He was saying that Beholders and Reapers chose not to act on what they saw. As though they just accepted that they lived on a different level than everyone else, a level of wisdom.

But… “That has to be difficult: choosing every time to not cross that line.”

He’d surprised Stiles with that based on his awed expression.

He shook it off quickly enough, though, and his expression changed from the serious demeanor to what Derek recognized now as a mask of humor.

“Yeah, well, great power, great responsibility thing. Basically what I got from it is to keep my core tucked away nicely against my destroyed ocular nerve and let life happen without taking any sneak peeks. I’ve gone through with the one thing I got a clear view of and I’m happy to be back in the dark.”

Stiles was afraid. He was terrified of what he was capable of and Derek didn’t blame him. And there was also the fact that just because he’d followed through on what he saw didn’t mean that what Lydia perceived was finished. Stiles could still be responsible for a lot of death, especially with the other Oni out there and in the know about his core.

The only positive aspect of this was that Oni tended not to go around announcing that they’d found someone to target beyond recruiting some help. After all, when obtaining more power was the point, it didn’t do well to have to figure out who got the power. And the power of a Beholder in the hands of the Oni…

That was a more terrifying thought than them getting another Ouroboros on their side.

“I’ll find the Oni, Stiles,” Derek declared, completely confident that this was a promise he would be able to keep. “I’ll take him out so you can have your life back.”

Stiles gave him a soft smile. “Sounds like a good plan to me. I’ll find something to do in return.”

“I’m not asking for anything.”

“I know, which is why I need to find something. Don’t worry: you’ll totally want it once I figure it out.”

“Right. Thank you, Stiles, for trusting me. That you told me all you did, it makes a difference and I understand that it wasn’t the easiest thing to do. Secrets never get easier to tell.”

Stiles gave him a look like he caught what was between the lines of what Derek said. And Stiles was intelligent, so he likely had.

“Anytime, Sourwolf.”

Finally, Derek felt like he could just say what came to mind again. “Stop calling me that.”

And Stiles seemed to recognize it as the release of tension it was. “No,” he said with a wide grin as he returned to the couch.

* * *

The rest of that night passed with a return to the gradually increasing familiarity between the two. Stiles kept occupied with listening to the TV and Derek eventually joined him on the couch with his laptop to actually do the work he’d been pretending to do earlier. And they didn’t let conversation turn back toward work or Oni or dispositions.

Derek thought Stiles probably needed just a little bit more of that: being allowed to just be a person and not a user. Then again, he thought that of pretty much everyone with a core.

Difference was he was responsible for Stiles _and_ Stiles was still in the midst of dealing with a traumatic event in his life.

The next morning, Derek's phone rang while he was getting dressed and he looked at the display to see it was Boyd. He answered, putting it on speaker so he didn’t have to stop getting ready, then tossed it into his bed. “This couldn’t wait the thirty minutes until I'm there?” he asked.

He wasn’t a morning person.

“The Deva came to the office. He's waiting for you,” Boyd skipped the pleasantries and Derek heard the tension in his tone that revealed he wasn’t very happy with that. Derek figured he understood why, though: Boyd didn’t like surprises and didn’t appreciate when people just did whatever they wanted for no reason besides they could. He thought there was no situation where that sort of action came from a place of consideration, that it was just pointlessly rude.

Derek wasn’t all that pleased either. They had phones and there was nothing about this case that made it so the guy couldn’t have called. “I'm surprised you didn’t just tell him to leave,” Derek mused as he shrugged into his jacket. He then walked over to the wall between his and Stiles' room and knocked on it. “Stiles, five minutes and we're leaving.”

Stiles had finished in the shower about ten minutes ago but Derek hadn’t heard much from him since he went back to his room.

Stiles was less of a morning person than Derek and he’d learned from yesterday that Stiles had been too long without a time he needed to be up and ready by in the morning. He'd been nearly an hour later to the office yesterday than he usually was. So, today he’d been much less accommodating toward Stiles’ sluggishness.

“Yeah, yeah!” Stiles called back, his voice muffled by more than the wall so Derek figured he’d fallen back to sleep. “Tyrant! Who goes to work in the morning, anyway? On a Thursday, no less!”

“Most working adults,” he called back and heard Boyd stifling laughter over the phone. He walked back toward his phone, picking it up and taking it off speaker. “Why didn’t you tell him to leave?”

“Well, he made a good point of professional courtesy and all that shit. So, I put him in one of the conference rooms and might have hit the lock on accident on my way out. He got here over an hour ago.”

Derek shook his head and suppressed a grin. Not many people got to be subjected to this side of Boyd, but when it did come out, it was amusing for everyone who wasn’t on the receiving end.

“I knew I could count on you to maintain the privacy of the division. Just because he’s a Deva doesn’t mean he gets unrestricted access to all our active assignments,” Derek said to let his friend know he'd have his back if the Deva complained.

“Anyway, his name is Jackson Whittemore and he's all sorts of proud to announce he's a Nova.”

“Ah, there's the real reason you’re pissed at him.”

“Dispositions are not a subject to brag about. It's not like he picked it out of a lineup and that makes him better than everyone else.”

Derek did smirk now: Boyd’s dislike of people treating their cores like it put them on a different level than anyone else could come out in very amusing ways.

“We’re about to head out. I'll decide when we get there if Stiles sticks with me or if you get to occupy him while I talk to Whittemore.”

“From what I've picked up about Stiles, he'll probably want to stick around.”

“Probably,” Derek agreed as he stepped out of his room and stopped to listen for movement from Stiles, picking up the sound of his steps and the rustling of clothes: surprisingly, Stiles didn’t make much noise when he moved around, especially around Derek's place.

Derek figured it was going to be a habit that would take a while to break, Stiles concealing his movement like that. Because there was no way that was natural to Stiles, not with how he moved – failing in most matters of coordination regularly – when he was around others.

“Three minutes,” Derek called before walking toward the kitchen.

“You’re worse than my dad, you dog of Satan!” Stiles called back with the hint of a sing-song tone and Derek growled back.

“You better stop letting him get away with so much or I’m gonna start accusing you of having a sweet spot for him,” Boyd suddenly said and Derek paused in reaching for one of the protein bars he ate for breakfast most mornings.

“You’re not funny,” Derek replied evenly, turning toward the hall when he heard the door of Stiles’ room open and the younger man stepped into view a few seconds later.

He was dressed about as casually as someone could get, wearing jeans and a zippered hoodie over a graphic t-shirt, but there was something that just caught Derek’s attention. Sure, it was casual and normal for Stiles to wear, but Stiles looked comfortable. And he was running one hand through his hair roughly to shake out the last bit of water from his shower as the other hand ran along the wall to guide him. He looked like he was still waking up and Derek smirked at how Stiles seemed to just fit in here.

In _Derek’s_ apartment.

Boyd knew him too well.

It had been a long time since he’d been attracted to anyone and he thought it was extremely unfair that it ended up being someone he was basically meant to only have a short time with. Because Stiles was going back home once he was safe to and Derek wasn’t leaving here. He was happy where he was, liked the Devas and the division he worked for and that had nothing to do with his position.

Oh well, it wasn’t like things like that worked out for him anyway. He’d accepted a long time ago that the bonds he had with people were meant to be limited; he just wasn’t compatible with others, not on a whole like it needed to be for a relationship.

“We’re about to head toward the office. I’ll see you when we arrive,” Derek said, closing out the conversation with Boyd before he could find any more ammunition to use against Derek and let Stiles know where he was.

“Right, I’ll go back to ignoring the guy,” Boyd replied before the line disconnected and Derek slid his phone into his pocket.

“I’m just grabbing a protein bar for breakfast. Did you want one, too, or did you want to get something on the way?” Derek asked as Stiles walked toward him, sticking his hand out when he was a few steps away from the island and getting a hand on it to keep himself from running into it.

“I’ll take one but I’ll probably need to eat something pretty soon after we get there. Maybe Scott’ll be able to get some grub with me.”

“That should be fine. And your dad said he wouldn’t be here until around lunch, so you have time to spare.” Stiles nodded and Derek grabbed another bar and handed it off to Stiles. Stiles took it, then moved his left hand from the island to the crook of Derek’s elbow so the Shifter could guide him through the apartment and then out toward the car once they had their shoes and jackets on, the contact something Derek was quickly getting accustomed to.

He wondered if Stiles would still reach out for him like that when he got his cane or if he would go to just listening for Derek like he’d been doing with Boyd the first time he’d seen Stiles.

“By the way, Boyd called to let me know the Deva who found you came to talk to me instead of calling,” Derek relayed, deciding he’d give Stiles as much time to think about what he wanted to do as he could.

“Great. That guy was quite the asshole. He outright told me the only reason he called the cops was to get me out of his hair. I actually thought he was screwing with me when he said he was a Deva.”

“You don’t need to stay with me to talk to him if you don’t want. I’m only following up with him about the Oni he was assigned to track down and see if he has anything to relay about the Sidhe, if they have any record of an accomplice, see if we can narrow down the search.”

“You’re kidding, right? Of course I’m gonna stick around. How else am I supposed to get the chance to screw with him? He had such an ego on him that I can’t wait to see if I can tear that down a few levels.”

Derek allowed a slight smile at Stiles’ determination. Figures.

“Just hold off really getting to him until _after_ I get some information. Sharing details like I’m asking him to do comes down to a professional courtesy. No Deva division is under any requirement to tell other divisions what they know. It’s usually not a problem since most of us just want to make sure Oni get caught, but every once in a while you run into someone that gets unnecessarily territorial over being the only one to catch a Deva. This Jackson seems like the perfect candidate for that sort of attitude.”

Stiles made an inquisitive sound as they stepped into the elevator to head down to the parking garage. “Well that just seems like poor planning. Why wouldn’t it be a thing to tell each other what you all know?”

“It comes down to privacy of just about everyone involved. Imagine each division of the Devas is like a different law enforcement agency. Cops and FBI argue jurisdiction all the time and it’s not actually very different than what we deal with. The Deva Prominents are currently working on changing that setup and have been for the past few months, but it takes time and they avoid making anything look like they rushed it."

“Walking on eggshells to run an organization that has a reputation for being the best weapon against the Oni? Sounds backwards.”

Derek didn’t disagree.

“Yeah, well, they need to make sure we keep deserving that reputation.”

“I think as long as the Oni don’t destroy humanity as we know it, people will keep going along with that. It doesn’t take any effort on their part to believe it, so all the more reason for them to not bother changing their minds.”

“I can’t decide if that’s pessimistic or morose,” Derek lifted his elbow a bit to indicate to Stiles that they’d reached the car and Stiles let go and turned right, his hand running along the trunk and doors as he walked to the passenger door. He opened the door, but then rested his arm across the top of the car and faced toward the driver side, then waited until he heard Derek open his door before saying, “I’m a complicated myriad of unique ideals that are arranged in a fascinating kaleidoscope of enigmatic impressions.”

Derek raised an eyebrow at Stiles and held in a laugh. “I just refer to that as ‘long-winded.’ Now, get in or I’ll never get anything out of this Deva. Boyd locked him in a conference room so he’s probably already pissed at us.”

Derek slid into his seat and started the car as Stiles dropped into his seat, actually sulking. “I put all of two seconds into putting that sentence together and you tear it down in one hyphenated word.”

Derek shrugged as he put the car in gear once Stiles closed the door. “I try to be efficient.”

“I’ll remember that when the Deva is shutting you down and you get nothing but irritated from this meeting. Like I said, the guy was an asshole.”

Derek was inclined to believe Stiles on this.


	6. Leads To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the information they have...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to take a moment to thank everyone who has read this and left a kudo or a comment. It is so deeply appreciated and I'm happy the fic is being enjoyed.  
> Now, without further ado, I hope you enjoy the chapter.

Well, Stiles was right: Jackson Whittemore was an asshole. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, he was an egotistical, self-centered asshole that made Derek wonder how he’d even passed the psychological screening process for Devas. They tended not to accept people with a plethora of those traits because it was often an indication of their susceptibility to becoming Oni, for making power a priority to the point that they stopped caring about other people.

Perhaps the only saving grace for Jackson’s personality was that it was like he was almost following a _need_ to succeed and excel in the assignments he was given. Maybe it was directing that toward the completion of Deva assignments that was keeping him from going the route of the Oni.

And, Derek supposed, just because he bragged about being a Nova – a very powerful disposition on its own – it didn’t seem like he cared about being anything more, like he was pleased with the power he had without needing there to be more.

Didn’t make him any less insufferable.

Jackson had repeated himself three times now, giving an accounting of what he saw in the apartment a few days ago, but he was giving Derek absolutely _nothing_ about the Oni he’d been targeting or any inkling of knowing of any accomplices that Derek could pursue.

And he kept giving dirty looks to Stiles, who was pacing the length of the room behind Derek nonstop. Derek had started ignoring him about two minutes in when he realized Stiles wasn’t going to stop.

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose as Jackson sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, giving the two of them a superior look that Derek thought was rather ironic. Ironic because he didn’t have anything besides his poor attitude to back up his refusal to give them anything. And the one of them that it actually held some weight with – Stiles, since Derek ranked higher – couldn’t even see it.

So, Derek decided to drop the niceties and make a point of that. “You are aware that Deva divisions are able to claim jurisdiction, right? It’s merely for the sake of proficiency that we tend not to deal with it. But your current refusal to help what is now my division’s assignment and investigation is making me think we shouldn’t be on good terms with the division you’re assigned to.” Finally, Jackson looked like things weren’t completely under his control. “You see, you may hold the rank of an Adept, but I am a Deva Senior and I am the one responsible for this division. I have the authority to declare that your division is not upholding the values of the Devas and that we will not accept you operating within our area of protection. Is that what your division’s Senior or Master was going for in you coming here?”

“You’re joking, right? Since when have relations between divisions fallen apart just because of one possible Oni being out there? And all because there happened to be some kid being held by the Oni I was targeting?”

“Then how about we start there. Why was this Oni being targeted? He was laying low guarding Stiles for more than a year.”

Jackson looked behind Derek toward Stiles and then let out a heavy sigh, sounding irritated.

“Yeah, well we got a tip. They called our division and told us that we needed to be looking here. When we looked into the one who’d made the call, it was someone who works for the U.E.A. in Japan. They said it was important but that was it. And when we tried to look further, we were stone-walled from higher up. But then orders came through from the Prominents to pursue the lead, saying the intel was reliable, but on a need-to-know for where it came from.”

Stiles had stopped pacing and was standing off to Derek’s right. When he glanced toward the other man, he looked thoughtful.

“Stiles? That mean anything to you?” Derek asked. Stiles startled a little at being addressed and turned toward where Derek was sitting, his gaze not quite as accurate in aiming toward him as he usually was, proving that he was distracted.

“Not necessarily, but I’m not the one who knows Devas and U.E.A. agents. That’s your thing,” he answered smoothly enough.

Derek remembered something he’d dismissed easily enough. “Kira Yukimura is a U.E.A. agent that we’ve consulted concerning Stiles’ protection. She recently was in Japan helping them hold a temporary seal over a Plague until they could get a Qilin in to finish the job. She would have had contact with other agents while she was there.”

“And she is?” Jackson asked and Derek glared at him for the tone. Sure, he didn’t expect everybody to know everyone between the two organizations, but there were better ways to ask.

“Douche,” Stiles muttered, apparently agreeing with Derek more verbally and getting a cold glare from Jackson.

Derek continued undeterred, “She’s a Chimera: Wraith and Sidhe Elemental. She’s also one of the most capable fighters in the area, no matter which organization you’re talking about. Her control over disrupting power from a core is about the best there is on this side of the continent, which is why she’s called often from all over the world to fill in gaps like that.”

“Whatever, she’s talented.”

“Your ability to push people around with a wave of your arm would look pretty stupid when she used it against you,” Stiles interjected and Derek really had to focus on not showing any sign of amusement.

Jackson certainly didn’t look too happy, but Derek didn’t give him a chance to shoot back.

“Regardless, it’s a connection between the tip you got about the Oni and Stiles’ location and what happened a few days ago.”

“Really? Someone who happened to get pulled into watching over this useless user is a connection?” Jackson still got his shot back on Stiles.

And Derek wouldn’t say anything to correct him about how wrong he was about Stiles.

Not that Stiles took it quietly, anyway. “Funny, I remember that I was the one that actually took him out. You just stood there waiting for him to make the first move. You didn’t even build up the slightest bit of your power.”

“I had no reason to believe I needed to. Sure, he was really determined in holding his ground but if I didn’t have to use force, I’m not supposed to.”

“Duh he was holding his ground! He was keeping you from seeing that I was back there. He was distracting you from seeing that the hallway was full of tripwires to keep me back there. He was trying to keep you from exploring, thinking he might keep me secret long enough for his buddy to come get me.”

“Stiles,” Derek interrupted to distract Stiles from his emotional outburst. He didn’t want Stiles to give anything away either: he didn’t want it revealed that Stiles was a Beholder and have any more people hone in on him.

But then he had to find a reason to have cut off Stiles like that because Jackson looked suspicious now. At least he was proving to have some measure of capability as far as doing his job.

“We’re working on the bare minimum here so we have to take every connection we can get,” he declared. “Now, despite how you got the tip of the Oni’s location, you still would have checked into him first. Stiles confirmed that he wasn’t a Sidhe and that’s what I found traces of when I checked the apartment. So, once more, what I need from you is the disposition of the Oni you were targeting and any possible record of associates he’s worked with before that are Sidhe. Honestly, I would have loved to look it up for myself, but you withheld the name from the cops, claiming it was a Deva report so they didn’t have a reason to know. That’s not the best way to build respect and a rapport with local law enforcement, who we may need the support of at any moment.”

“I’m not going to apologize for something that isn’t against Deva guidelines. Devas operate with greater secrecy and authority than the cops and they don’t get to know everything that we do.”

Derek raised an eyebrow at Jackson. “I don’t care what dispute you have with cops, whether it’s a personal dislike for them or if that is how the Deva Senior running your division is working, but that’s not what I do and right now you are in my territory.” It wasn’t often that the wolf-like instincts of his core rose up to the forefront like that, but he’d been spending the past few days letting them have freer rein by lessening his control over his core and the more protective parts of his nature were becoming more prominent.

And it was worth it to see Jackson shift in his seat a little. He was being torn apart verbally, told that basically everything he did for the past few days was wrong, and it was starting to get to him. Good, maybe he’d be an acceptable Deva after this instead of a mediocre asshole.

“The Oni’s name was Lewis Murphy, a Projector.”

“Yes!” Stiles exclaimed in a hushed voice. “Do I know my dispositions or what.”

Derek wasn’t able to hold back the slight smirk.

“He was designated as an Oni four years ago. Best as we can figure, he was living in Japan at the time that his core awakened and was going around making people hallucinate that they were burning to death. We don’t have anything that says why he chose that image to plant, but he caused serious neurological damage to about a dozen people before the U.E.A. tracked it to him. They couldn’t track anything down on him, though, and never got an identity on him. They handed it over to the Devas and while they were able to locate him, they still never got a name before he disappeared. He managed to leave the country and come here before they were able to catch him. He was completely off the grid until we got that call.”

“Did he kill anyone?” Stiles asked.

The hallucinations Projectors caused were as real to the person experiencing them as anything else that was genuinely occurring. Someone being influenced by a Projector would truly believe they were on fire if that’s what they were being told to believe. The stronger the Projector, the quicker it would take effect. And all it took was the user making physical contact.

“Three dead just before he was identified. He was using them to practice nailing the details of his hallucinations as far as we can tell.”

“Well, how kind of him to only make me believe I was suffocating. Model of a modern major general right there,” Stiles muttered and Derek didn’t actually know what he meant; he could usually at least recognize when Stiles made those more obscure references, but not this time.

Neither did Jackson by his expression.

And when Jackson continued, he sounded like he was actually hesitant to give Stiles anything else to work with and didn’t want to be talking anymore, which Stiles grinned about. “I would assume the Sidhe was a contact he made while in Japan. It may very well be the one who told him to make a grab for Stilinski, whatever the reason for that was.”

“My core being undetermined is on my medical records and confidentiality only counts when you’re caught. They might have just found my file, saw the status, and decided I was worth some effort to keep a close eye on. It doesn’t have to be some grand Oni scheme dating back through many years with deeply involved planning and execution.”

Derek couldn’t tell if Stiles was being dismissive for Jackson’s sake or if he really thought they were giving the Oni too much credit.

“Yeah, well, we don’t want it to be that either, believe me. Fact of the matter is that nothing goes well when Oni start working together and planning out their moves years in advance,” Jackson replied and Derek was relieved by the somber tone he’d taken on. No Deva Derek had met wanted to hear that Oni were making plans – it never ended without loss of life – and he was happy that Jackson didn’t break that record. “So, what’s your next move gonna be?” he asked after a short silence. “You gonna ask the U.E.A. agent about her time in Japan, see if she can give you any information on who called us? I was never told the name of the person who called us so I don’t have anything else for you. I was given the assignment because I’m a Nova and it’s easy for me to keep out of range of a Projector.”

“Then that likely means it’s the decision of the Prominents to withhold the user’s identity. It’ll be a dead end. Besides, Kira would have mentioned something if she knew anything. If she believed she’d seen or done something that was connected, she would have told me once Stiles’ protection was assigned to me.”

They were at a dead end, in other words. They had information, but it was all disjointed and the important pieces they needed for it to be of any use to them were all missing. And the user that had contacted the Devas, if there was protection of their identity going on, that most likely meant their disposition was something just as valuable and powerful as Stiles’. After all, both the Devas and the U.E.A. had a tendency of hiding their most powerful users – I.E. ones that Oni would be targeting – in plain sight. They received the most stringent training and were given an equal share of assignments. The organizations did everything they could to see that the rare dispositions that came to them were capable of looking out for themselves instead of relying on others.

Stiles was an unusual case because they wouldn’t be able to train him like they did others because of his blindness. But Derek didn’t want to approach the subject that Stiles would likely be under some sort of protective custody for the rest of his life.

Even less appealing to think about was that there was no possible way Derek would ever be assigned to have that role any longer than absolutely necessary. He had responsibilities to see to and Stiles couldn’t be one of them, not for too long.

_Maybe_ if they formed an affinity, but that was unlikely. Stiles admitted that Lydia was the only person he’d formed an affinity with so he wasn’t one that formed those connections easily. And Derek, himself, had no affinities fully formed. One would likely have connected between him and Boyd but they’d need to be around each other constantly for a few days for the base connection to be made and their work just made that difficult.

It had been so long since he’d formed an affinity with anyone, that he'd been so close to someone that he’d really forgotten what it was like.

“Looks like you’re done with me, then,” Jackson announced as he stood up and grabbed his jacket off the back of his chair.

Derek stood as well, crossing his arms and giving the other man a flat look. “Word of advice: the next time someone requests to talk to you, just call them back.”

Jackson’s expression got smug again and Derek had to keep from letting out an irritated growl. “And deprive them the opportunity to share my company.”

“No, to spare them the ruined day from having to put up with you,” Stiles said as he stepped in a little closer to Derek.

Derek continued on as though Stiles hadn’t spoken. “It’s an inconvenience when it’s unnecessary. You coming here was unnecessary. I get it: you want to have a clean record for when you’re up for advancement, but the ability to handle any situation with a favored approach is going to mean as much to them as a high success rate on your assignments. Let’s just say your personal touch needs more work.”

Jackson was glaring at him now and he allowed the thought that Stiles would have appreciated being able to see the expression. The other Deva then growled out, “Thank you for the advice, sir. Now am I going to be allowed to leave or do I have to get permission from your guard dog first?”

Derek had to hold in a smirk at Boyd being called a dog when Derek was the Shifter.

“I’ll have Boyd come escort you out. You understand.” Derek turned toward the door, pausing long enough for Stiles to get a hold on his jacket so he could follow him out smoothly.

Boyd was waiting just outside the door, as Derek expected; he would have been in the observation room as back-up regardless of it being a Deva Derek had been meeting with. No meeting was left unobserved.

“He’s ready to leave,” Derek relayed and kept walking toward his desk with Stiles following a step behind. Derek glanced around for Scott, making sure he wasn’t around before asking, “We really don’t have anything, do we?” He had to check with Stiles, make sure he didn’t ignore Stiles _again_ knowing more about what was going on than he did.

Stiles let out a long sigh, which was answer enough on its own. “I’ve got zilch with a heaping side of nada.”

Three days being responsible for Stiles and he was dead in the water.

* * *

Derek glanced down at the display on his phone to see who was calling, then turned it over and ignored it as it continued vibrating. He caught how Stiles’ eyes moved in his direction briefly before going back to talking to Scott.

He swore, sometimes Stiles’ hearing was better than that of the Deva he was talking to.

Then again, Scott didn’t know Derek was dodging calls but Stiles had heard him do it for the past two days.

He just didn’t want to hear what he was sure the guy on the other end of the line was going to say.

Two weeks without any signs of aggression or threat against Stiles Stilinski.

No proof that Stiles Stilinski was in any further danger from Oni.

Misallocation of Deva resources to continue requiring him to remain in direct care of a Deva Master and two other Devas on rotation.

Derek had a division to run and assignments that he could be taking on himself instead of finding others to do them.

Unfortunately, Derek knew that it didn’t matter what he said, it wouldn’t be enough to convey why he thought it was a bad idea to remove the safeguards – himself – over Stiles. So, he was ignoring the calls to buy time to figure out what the fuck to say. Which he knew he wouldn’t be able to do and get away with many more times. He was, after all, shirking his responsibility by not answering the phone.

But Stiles had made such a place for himself among them here, and all without seeming to try. He was just _that_ kind of person. He drew you in, made you laugh, got an eye roll or seven, said the most random things that you never figured out how they were connected, all while you simply enjoyed yourself and found yourself caring about what happened to him.

Though, maybe that last point was just Derek.

But that was the thing: Derek couldn’t use caring about the guy as a reason for him to not be released.

He was having more and more difficulty separating those particular feelings from what had made the Oni keep Stiles for over a year. He was starting to feel like he’d made Stiles go from one prison to another and that made him feel guilty as hell.

At least Stiles had everything he needed to take care of himself. His dad had brought him quite a bit over those first few days after reuniting. His day-to-day was most helped by a cane and a phone with a headphone plugged in and one ear bud in at all times that Lydia had helped him set up. Though, Derek had noticed that when it was just the two of them, he tended not to worry about either his phone or his cane. He would still get a hand on Derek and use him as a guide. He’d do it with Scott, too, but most often with Derek, which was something Derek tried not to think about too much. His dad had also brought a laptop that he spent hours on every night and had obviously been carefully catered to Stiles’ adaptive needs: a little portable braille reader that he could plug into a USB port and read whatever he was looking up when he didn’t feel like having it be read to him through the headphones, and a braille printer that he’d set up in the corner of his room.

Derek wasn’t sure what all Stiles was looking at, but he doubted a majority of it was relevant to Stiles’ situation; he’d learned early that for every direct thought Stiles pursued, he followed about five that were superfluous. And considering how many times Stiles would start rambling off what he’d learned, Derek was certain that ratio applied to Internet searches.

His phone started vibrating again and he didn’t even look at it, just kept reviewing the reports from the last two days. Boyd was due back within the next half hour and he’d be set to leave for the night once he arrived; Boyd had been with the Devas for enough years that Derek needed to start giving him some experience being in charge as well. He’d planned to have started doing it a while ago but Stiles had distracted him enough that it had gotten put off a little.

He glanced to the side as he noticed Stiles walking around his desk, leaning against it beside Derek. The Deva glanced over to see Scott walking away.

“Scott finally worked up something approaching a backbone and asked Kira to go out for dinner,” Stiles declared before Derek could ask where he went. Scott usually waited for them to leave and kept Stiles company all the way to Derek’s car. “Of course, then he ruined it by asking Isaac and that new trainee that just got assigned here to go too.”

"Allison,” Derek supplied.

That wasn’t an assignment he was particularly comfortable with for a few reasons he’d managed to avoid thinking about much.

“Yeah, that one. So, now it just looks like he asked people to hang out with him instead of wanting to go out with her. I’m pretty sure Isaac is going to convince Allison to tease Scott at every possible moment for his error in judgment.”

Derek had noted that Isaac and Allison had hit it off and wouldn’t be surprised if they ended up ganging up on Scott.

“He didn’t ask you?” Derek questioned instead. It wouldn’t be the first time Stiles had gone somewhere with Scott just to hang out and Derek was pleased every time they did: it was at least something to help Stiles feel like he had a normal life.

“Oh, he asked me. I just had the good sense to turn him down, at least give the slightest inkling of a chance to turn it into a date. Now, if he asks me again the next time, I’m saying yes because that means his learning curve needs some help, but he gets one freebie on this.”

“You’re such an inspiration,” Derek deadpanned and Stiles grinned at him.

“Ain’t I though? I should be writing how-to books. Maybe ‘Bros for Dummies’ or something like that.”

“Just what the world needs: more ‘bros’.”

“Now I know that wasn’t sarcasm because that is exactly what the world needs right now. Maybe if more people were absorbed in upholding the bro code, we’d have less Oni around. Because being an Oni is strictly against the ideals of bro-dom.”

“Oh really? That’s a fact, is it?”

“Of course it’s a fact. I said it, didn’t I?”

It was times like that when Derek _really_ wished he could communicate with Stiles through facial expression alone because there were so many instances – like now – that he just had no clue how to put his thoughts into words.

Then again, he had figured out a few days in that Stiles often said things a certain way to put Derek through the internal struggle of figuring out if he could find the right words or just let it go. He’d realized it when he watched Stiles try and pull it on Isaac with varying results as Isaac wasn’t nearly as socially awkward as Derek, regardless of being more on the quiet side. He did get nervous faster than Boyd, though, which was probably why Stiles had decided to pick on him.

His phone started vibrating again and he allowed himself a moment to be impressed by the tenacity on display here.

Stiles turned toward the sound and he frowned while Derek returned his attention to his work.

“Hey, Derek?” Stiles called to him, his voice unusually hesitant. Derek just gave an answering hum as he signed off on a report and moved on to the next one. “If that’s something personal, I get you not talking to me about it. That’s your business. But if you’re dodging calls because you don’t want me to know what’s going on, that I have an issue with. Seriously, I exist in the dark so I really don’t appreciate people who are supposed to be my friends keeping me there.”

Derek looked up toward Stiles, taking in the serious expression, the frustration, the pleading. Then, he considered that he was likely the only person who had allowed himself to be influenced more by what Stiles couldn’t do rather than focus on what he could do. He may not have been doing it consciously, but there was definitely a measure of his protective instinct kicking in stronger because of Stiles’ blindness.

Stiles’ dad didn’t coddle him.

Lydia certainly didn’t treat him like he was any different than anyone else.

Hell, even Scott treated Stiles exactly the same as he treated anyone else.

Derek had started relying on Stiles’ blindness to keep him from knowing what Derek was trying to keep away. It wasn’t something he should have been doing. If he really wanted to be different from the Oni, he had to be open and honest with Stiles, let him decide that they were done with this, that he could go home if he wanted.

It really wasn’t something he should have needed to be called out on to realize he’d been doing it.

He set his pen down and leaned back into his chair to look up at Stiles. He wanted to reach out to Stiles, make some sort of contact with him, but he’d adjusted early in those first few days of Stiles being there to have Stiles be the one to reach out to him.

“It’s not against you,” he started to get that out of the way. He didn’t want Stiles worrying that the issue was going to be a buildup to him in trouble. “You remember I’m not the one completely in charge here, right?”

“Yeah, you’re ranked a Senior and have some command, but the Deva Master is ultimately in charge.”

“They watch all operational decisions made, determine what the Seniors need to improve on, and can supersede their decisions if they don’t see how assignments are beneficial to Deva operations.”

Stiles was concentrating, figuring out what Derek wasn’t saying like he was too damn good at doing.

“There’s not much happening with me, nothing to say that I need your eyes on me,” Stiles declared, looking sullen.

“Just knowing another Oni had been there recently isn’t enough. Without action against you, there’s nothing to say that you are at risk, not enough to validate the protection you have being provided by Devas, anyway.”

Stiles crossed his arms and looked irritated now. “Isn’t that a lot messed up? That no one attacking me means there’s no risk? What if you’re the only thing keeping them from making a move?"

Derek stood and stepped in just to Stiles’ right, placing his hand on the desk so he was leaning in next to Stiles’ ear, trying to get across without saying anything for Stiles to lower his voice and being subtle enough that it shouldn’t gain anyone’s attention.

“You have to remember from everyone else’s perspective, we don’t know why the Oni targeted you, just that they have. And there has been very few Devas that have served as a true deterrent to Oni trying for what they want. It’s not like I have a disposition that many consider something they can’t handle.”

Stiles’ eyes dropped and some of the fight that was always there faded just a little, Derek shaken by how unnatural that seemed: Stiles was always ready to press his point farther than he should. He then curled forward, his forehead dropping onto Derek’s shoulder and Derek froze at the contact.

“I’m supposed to be here, I know it,” Stiles declared after taking in a deep breath, his voice sounding much more resolute than his expression had just been.

“Stiles…” Derek started but was cut off.

“No, Derek, I’m supposed to be here. What I saw about getting away from the Oni, it wasn’t for getting away, but getting to you.”

“Then why wasn’t I the one called about your location?” Derek didn’t really believe in the idea that things were meant to happen a certain way, in destiny or fate or whatever word people attached to the idea to make it sound more important than it was. But more importantly, neither did Stiles from conversation they’d had. In fact, Stiles had always been adamant that his disposition only proved that there was no such thing as predicting the future. So, for him to insist the opposite now was suspect.

“Maybe because you haven’t stopped asking questions. The agent that put it all on track didn’t want to be identified and you can’t deny you wouldn’t have let it go just to take care of the Oni.” Derek knew he wouldn’t have. Even now, it bothered him that he didn’t know more and not only because of how it meant he didn’t know the threat to Stiles. “Thing is, I don’t let things lie either. That means we’re dangerous for the Oni to have together. Lucky for us, they don’t know that.”

“Stiles, this isn’t about the Oni, though. This is about the Devas and me doing my job. And as far as they see, I’m not doing enough of my job while you’re my responsibility.”

“Then take the call. Let them say I’m not in danger anymore. Then, when my dad is putting in another missing person report or putting me into the ground because they decided a different approach was better than waiting out finding an Ouroboros to transfer my core over, they can see that they were wrong and maybe they shouldn’t be thinking so short term.”

“Making an example of mistakes isn’t always the best way to get a message across. Especially when that comes at the risk of your safety.”

He let out a sigh and allowed himself to turn toward Stiles a bit, breathing in just a bit to get a concentrated scent of Stiles. He felt a little guilty about it afterwards, but he couldn’t ignore that he was getting more and more attached to Stiles. Not just his company, or his scent, or his conversation, but everything altogether. It wasn’t Stiles if it was just pieces, after all, and things were no longer the same without Stiles.

He was pretty sure Stiles had noticed – though he wouldn’t allow the thought that it was in any way reciprocated = because he just stayed in close. It wasn’t an affinity, he knew, but still quite influential.

Too bad the only thing anyone in authority over him would actually acknowledge was an affinity. Anything less behind his request to keep Stiles with him would hold no guarantee of acceptance by the division’s Master or Prominents, though this sort of decision would be a bit too mundane for them to be involved with. Maybe if he was close to one of them, he might be able to get in a good word, but that wasn’t the case. Hell, he was confident he was merely tolerated by the Deva Master and was only given his position because his record couldn’t be argued with.

“Yeah, well I doubt ignoring him is any better of an approach. At least I’m getting results.”

Which, of course, Stiles was right about. Derek just didn’t know what else to do and he couldn’t even consider Stiles being put in danger as an option. Stiles didn’t seem to have that objection, though his opinion could be considered skewed because of how he’d spent the past year. It just seemed to have left Stiles with a practically nonexistent concern for Oni.

That or a Sheriff’s son had somehow ended up with no sense of self-preservation.

And because this was Stiles Stilinski in question, it was a tough call.

Derek moved away slightly, just enough so that Stiles would lift his head. Honey brown eyes looked up toward his face and Derek was caught by the thought that he never did connect those expressive eyes as being unable to see, even as he was acutely aware of Stiles’ blindness. It was a contradiction that didn’t make much sense and he just accepted that.

“Even if my responsibility over you is officially removed, I’ll make sure you aren’t left unprotected. I may not have many connections outside the Devas, but I have some and it’s past time I called on any of them.”

Stiles grabbed his bicep and squeezed tightly before giving him a smile. “As much as I appreciate the gesture – and holy shit, do I appreciate it – but don’t count it all out just yet. There may not be any predicting the future, even for a Beholder, but when people are where they’re supposed to be, what happens to keep them there can look like a hell of a lot like there is such a thing as calling the shots for life to take.”

Derek couldn’t shake the feeling that Stiles was saying he had his own connections as options for them. But how the hell did Stiles know anyone that could face down the Oni? Not even considering the limitations of being held captive, he was a civilian who had admittedly kept far away from anything to do with users. He’d said that Lydia was the only user he was close to before meeting Derek, Scott, and Boyd. And Stiles didn’t use his own abilities, had declared that he hated his disposition and that it didn’t matter that he seemed to have bypassed the usual risk to Beholders, it never felt right to tap into his core.

Stiles interrupted his thoughts with a declarative tone, saying, “Next time, Derek, answer the phone. You won’t know unless you fight.”

It was a strange choice of words, even for Stiles who usually worded things just a little strangely. But he also tended to say things carefully when he slowed down, as if to prove that just because he wasn’t talking a mile a minute didn’t mean his mind wasn’t racing as fast as it always was. Stiles could be terrifyingly sharp when Derek least expected it.

Apparently, like now.

Derek’s job as a Deva was to always be ready for a fight. Fighting was something he was good at, even before he’d become a Deva and completed their training. He was as much of a fighter as any other Shifter or Paladin.

But what if he had just started taking the path of least resistance as a way of keeping Stiles out of the crossfire, letting them become more sheltered, live just a little less to make sure there was never an opportunity for an Oni to take advantage of. Sure, he hadn’t been living the most social existence over the past decade, but even he noticed a difference when he looked.

Stiles stood up straight and Derek moved back enough for the other man to take a step to the side and away from him.

“Besides, you’re on my dad’s good side. Hard part’s over.” Stiles gave his arm a pat and then moved to Scott’s desk and pulled his phone out of his pocket, slipping the other earbud into his ear as he gave his verbal instruction through the mic to continue reading the last story he’d left off on – apparently he was actually a fan of listening to audiobooks as background noise when he didn’t want to pay attention – and his focus shifted away from his surroundings, his expression relaxing just a bit as he used this to take a break from having to pay attention to everything to make up for not seeing.

He was giving Derek a chance to pull himself together on his own in the only way Stiles could. It was a show of compassion Derek was learning Stiles didn’t have the patience to show many people. But he gave it to Derek when he least expected it and that meant a lot.

Even when his phone rang again about ten minutes later and he actually answered this time.

“Deva Senior Derek Hale, you’re surprisingly difficult to get in touch with while you’re supposed to be at the office,” the Deva Master’s voice was even but Derek knew he wasn’t happy. “We need to talk about your current assignment. If you could escort Mieczyslaw Stilinski here, I’m expecting you.”

He’d gotten impressively close on pronouncing Stiles’ name correctly without hesitating to try. That was the confidence of a Master, someone who had been a Deva for over ten years – this particular Master approaching eighteen – and yet Derek didn’t feel intimidated.

“We’re on our way, Deva Master Argent,” he replied calmly and the line disconnected.

Well, he wasn’t going to be waiting for Boyd to head out for the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, if you have any questions feel free to ask and I will answer what won't be revealed through the story.  
> Thank you for reading and see you next Saturday.


	7. The Unexpected

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek stands up for Stiles...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just all the thanks to everyone who is reading, enjoying, and leaving kudos and comments, no matter which of those you count under. It's all so greatly appreciated.  
> I have added a disposition glossary to the End Note for the fic after getting the much appreciated suggestion in a comment. Seriously don't know why I didn't think of that. :)  
> Enjoy the chapter!

Chris Argent was likely to become a Prominent, Derek knew. And he even thought the man wouldn’t do too bad as one, regardless of how there was just always tension between them and it likely wouldn’t change.

Derek knew it was because of their history personally as well as that Chris had some of his own experience with Shifters other than Derek. And Derek accepted that the history Chris had was with Oni; that didn’t always mean much to memory. And Chris was mostly professional with him, just tended to question him a lot more than he did other Deva Seniors he oversaw.

Derek didn’t usually let it get to him, just thought of it as a way to make him a better leader, but he was having trouble just going with that thought this time around. Not when Chris had spent the past ten minutes reviewing everything Derek had concerning the situation with Stiles and was waiting for him to announce it wasn’t enough and to arrange Stiles’ transportation home and out of the Deva’s hair.

Thankfully, Stiles had been asked to wait outside Chris’ office for now: Derek just knew Stiles would be nothing but nervous energy and he’d feed off of that, making it worse.

Chris closed the folder Derek had handed him and leaned back in his chair to look at Derek intensely. Though his light blue eyes always made for an intense look, backed by the fact that his Valkyrie disposition made for a formidable fighter, having the enhanced strength and reflexes without the enhancement to the fighting instinct, which was practically moot because the man had trained so intensely for so many years that he’d made up that difference.

Experience counted for more than most people gave it credit for and Chris Argent was a prime example.

“This is everything you have?” Chris asked.

“Yes, from the report of the original incident when Stilinski was taken to the Oni’s death and daily logs submitted by myself, Vernon Boyd, and Scott McCall, who have had equal involvement concerning his protection and I have given them authority equal to mine while they are responsible for him,” he was trying to avoid saying “Stiles” if for no other reason than he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to cover the familiarity he had with Stiles just by saying his name.

“Two weeks and nothing of concern has happened,” Chris summarized. “I’m not discrediting the manner in which you followed up everything. You actually handled it as well as anything else. You brought others in to help you guard him, ones that are not only skilled Devas, but also obviously have connected with him. You consulted with U.E.A. agents to gather intel on how to go about a protection detail since you’d never done it before. You investigated everything you found related to Stilinski’s case as far as you could. There really isn’t much else you could have done.”

Derek pushed his hands deep into his jacket pockets. “But that doesn’t mean it’s enough. We actually have nothing that says there’s still a threat against him.” Derek wasn’t going to let Chris steamroll him on this. He had to fight, make Argent see things his way, let Stiles be where he believed he was meant to be.

“Which it’s obvious you disagree or you wouldn’t have dodged calls from me for the past three days,” Chris accused and Derek just shrugged.

“Well, you _are_ wrong,” he replied easily, grateful for their strained working relationship for once. He wouldn’t have been able to pull that off if it had been someone he deeply respected.

“Really? What makes you say that?”

“Oni don’t make a habit of giving up on a user they target. And while they don’t have the benefit of an Ouroboros on their side to help them collect powerful cores instead of trying to convince people to become Oni, that won’t always be the case. Unlike some dispositions, the Ouroboros core doesn’t carry any instinct with it to influence the user toward either peace or violence.”

“Strange, I don’t recall there being any record of Stilinski’s disposition, nothing to have Oni think that he has abilities worth controlling. What we do have is plenty of documentation detailing how his core destroyed his vision to the point that it is even risky for a Regen and their superior healing to fix. Why would Oni want something like that?”

“Maybe they know something we don’t. They aren’t restricted by having to answer to the general public, after all. That has often meant they end up knowing more than we do.”

“True. But that still doesn’t explain your attachment to the notion that Stilinski needs constant protection as he has now.” Chris leaned forward and rested his elbows on his desk. “I’m going to ask you once and I want you to consider his position rather than your own before you answer.” He stared Derek down for a few seconds, but Derek remained still, vigilant, and waited. “Do _you_ know something we don’t?”

Derek’s protective instincts over Stiles kicked in immediately and he wanted to deny the question completely. He and Stiles both agreed that it was safest for no one else to know he was a Beholder. Because all it took to go on Stiles’ official record was Derek declaring it to any other Deva. And the protective measures that were required for Beholders meant that Derek’s protection wouldn’t be sufficient and Stiles would be moved away from him. That wasn’t the goal for either of them.

But that’s not what Chris was asking: he was just asking _if_ , not what.

Chris was only doing his job, just like Derek. And he’d been doing it for nearly three times as long as Derek had. Experience…

“Yes,” Derek answered simply, maintaining eye contact to try and convey that it was all Chris was going to get from him.

And the man met his gaze and seemed to take it all in, looked like he was figuring everything out without being told. It didn’t matter that there was no way he knew what Derek had found out about Stiles, not with his disposition, it just looked like he did.

“Well, alright then,” Chris replied with a slight nod. “I can’t, in good conscience, pull Stilinski from your protection then. It is very possible that the only reason nothing has happened has been because he is with the Devas now. Because while Oni don’t have a reputation for giving up, as you pointed out accurately, they also don’t like tipping their hand to us. I would recommend at least one other Deva from your division to rotate guard with him, though, two if you can manage. Protective detail can be mentally exhausting and you need to make sure your people are at their best.” Derek just blinked at Chris a few times, surprised. “He’s staying with you, right?”

“Yeah, my place is secure and he has a room to himself. It’s working out well and he hasn’t said he wants to move.”

“That’s fine. You’re not listed so it’s as good an any safe house we have. If you need anything else for him, put through some requisition forms and we’ll see that he’s taken care of.”

“We’re alright for now. His dad has brought him some things from home, a lot of his adaptive equipment and personal items to help him settle in here.” Derek was sort of speaking automatically, this so far from what he’d expected that he was having trouble processing.

“Good,” Chris picked up the folder and handed it back over to Derek and Chris seemed to notice the Shifter’s struggle because he continued with, “Off the record?”

Derek got a bit more suspicious at that even as he recognized he was being too cautious at the moment. “Sure,” he replied.

“Yes, we have policies and procedures that we follow to maintain order between all the divisions we have worldwide. Our approach is methodical and there is a strong need to make sure our limited resources are being used in the most efficient way. But you need to never forget that out of all the organizations and law enforcement agencies, whether for users or ordinary people, we Devas have the most freedom to adapt. The very structure of our design means we can handle any Oni threat that comes along while providing support to anyone that needs it. Because cores are human and can’t always be predicted or easily organized. And, right now, there are an increasing number of users and cores that are defying what we’ve come to understand as the norm. Things are changing and our ability to change with them is going to be why we endure or fail.”

Derek frowned at the Master. Without meaning to – as far as Derek could tell – Chris had touched on exactly why he’d been insistent on keeping Stiles’ disposition a secret. How Stiles’ core operated wasn’t the norm and that usually made for a prime target for the Oni.

Then, there was the strong implication that if there were those civilians that were experiencing things beyond the norm, then it was just as likely that those that were becoming Oni were as well, that they were coming to a point where they’d be dealing with Oni who were capable of more than any they’d faced before. There was general success against the Oni because they tended to work alone or in small groups. If that was changing now, then it was likely that the Devas and User Enforcement Agency wasn’t enough to counter them.

“I think you understand,” Chris concluded after a short silence and Derek focused back on the man. “You have a strong record as a Deva. You’re good at what you do. I wouldn’t have put you in charge of a division if you weren’t. Just don’t lose that.”

“Yes, sir,” Derek replied automatically, feeling a little awkward. This guy really would make a good Prominent.

“Go ahead and call in Stilinski for a few minutes.”

Derek’s protective instincts kicked back in, but he still nodded and stood, walking to the door and opening it to see Stiles was walking along the far wall, likely pacing. The guy sitting at the desk who basically acted as Chris’ assistant was shooting him looks every few seconds, nervous and Derek held in a smirk at that: Stiles just knew how to get people uncomfortable.

“Stiles, he wants to see you really quick,” Derek called to him, Stiles turning toward him and taking in a deep breath before he started walking across the room to where he’d heard Derek’s voice from and had likely already made enough passes around the room to have an idea of the size. Except, “Two steps left or you’re running into the table,” Derek called automatically and Stiles side-stepped the table before he got too close, though he still almost fell sideways as one foot caught on the other but managed to catch himself before falling over and Derek shook his head: Stiles tended to walk the walls of a room and then forget that he hadn’t checked the middle and that was why he always had bruises.

Chris’ assistant had stood up quickly, looking concerned and Derek had to wonder if even that was Stiles playing to get a reaction instead of a genuine show of clumsiness; it really could be either and Stiles might not fess up to which.

Stiles reached his hand out once he got close, Derek extending his arm in response so that Stiles could grab onto he crook of his elbow and let Derek guide him to a chair; Stiles had decided to leave his cane in the car, declaring that he’d go for a play on sympathy by making himself look worse off than he really was, rely on Derek just that little bit more while in front of Chris.

It was as much a devious move as a dickhead one, especially since anytime Stiles used someone as a guide was always for convenience and not necessity.

“Mr. Stilinski, my name is Chris Argent and I am the Master Ranked Deva in charge of the divisions of the west coast states. It’s nice to meet you after reviewing all the reports in connection to your case,” Chris introduced himself as he stood politely while Stiles approached.

“Right,” Stiles replied shortly. Derek shifted his elbow a bit and nudged at Stiles’ arm. Stiles pinched his forearm in response but he did hold out his other hand in an offer to shake, which Chris took. “So, everything all set for me to stick around?” Stiles asked as he made it obvious he didn’t plan to sit down and what he said was outright confrontational.

“I believe Senior Hale has it handled more than sufficiently. I see no reason to disrupt that,” Chris responded as he sat back down. This guy was really unphased by everything.

“Hold the phone, is that competence I see?” Stiles tugged dramatically at Derek’s arm and he closed his eyes and shook his head a little. Just because the guy had made a decision they were going for didn’t mean he wouldn’t change it because Stiles laid on the sarcasm.

But when Derek looked back to Chris, he was just giving the younger man a curious look, like he’d maybe figured something out.

“I would hope so. I’d hate for the many years of operation the Devas have to be wasted on incompetence,” he replied easily and Stiles suddenly looked as thoughtful. He was getting a read on Chris in his own way. “I did have a question for you while I had the chance. Believe it or not, I don’t actually want to make a habit of making you come here.”

“That’s alright, I’m not a fan of being here.”

Chris continued on as if Stiles hadn’t interjected. “What do you think of Derek?”

That seemed to throw Stiles as much as it had thrown Derek. He thought he was going to question him about the Oni, not ask about him in a way that seemed like he was going for a personal opinion.

And when Stiles answered, it was with a serious tone that conveyed how much he believed what he said. “There’s no one better.”

Derek looked over to Stiles, taking in his determined expression and wondering just why he’d chosen to give that answer. Of course there were better; hell, they were talking to someone who was likely better. And “being where he was supposed to be” only went so far when it came to Stiles actually remaining safe, which was all Derek wanted for him.

He was still succeeding in convincing himself of that, anyway, about it being “all”.

“I see. Thank you for your time, both of you.” Chris then focused on Derek and gave him an intense look. “But, next time, just answer the damn phone.”

“Right,” Derek replied in a low growl, though he was mostly frustrated with himself for avoiding the problem like that when he didn’t have anything to worry about. If he’d just been responsible, he wouldn’t have gotten stressed out about it and they could have been moving forward with finding two more Devas to tag in as Stiles’ protective detail.

He hadn’t handled that well and could only hope it didn’t work against him in the future in some way.

“Then have a good day,” Chris dismissed them, reaching out for other documents on his desk to go back to work.

Stiles looked like he was getting ready to say something else, so Derek started walking toward the door, pulling Stiles after him and out of the room. And once they’d passed through the waiting room, Stiles protested, which Derek hadn’t expected him to wait that long.

“Hey, you know I had other stuff to say to that guy,” Stiles complained as they headed toward the exit.

“Yeah, and from what you’d already said, I bet it was the most flattering of comments,” Derek replied drily. “Stiles, he hadn’t been looking to make you go anywhere. He was just looking for more than he had to say he was doing the right thing. And our reports wouldn’t give anyone much of anything to go off of.”

“Right, I bet he’s got feelers out in all the right places being in his position,” Stiles bit back and Derek wondered why he was being so aggressive about this.

“Does he have resources: of course. He wouldn’t be in a position of authority if he didn’t. And, yes, I’ve had issues with him in the past, but he _is_ good at what he does. He’s the kind of person you want on your side.”

“Then why did you dodge him for three days?”

Derek let out a sigh and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, jostling Stiles’ hand a little but he made sure he kept hold. “Because I’ve had some pretty serious issues with him in the past and was worried that would make a difference. Apparently, I was wrong.”

It took a few seconds before Stiles asked, “How long has it been since you talked to him? Since you had your issues?”

“A couple years. I haven’t really talked to him since I advanced to Senior and was given authority over the division. We mostly communicate through email and reports.”

Stiles shrugged. “People change?”

Derek felt there was more to it, but let it slide. “I guess. Doesn’t matter, anyway. You’re sticking around on Deva Master orders. I just have to bring in one or two more Devas to have assigned to your protection. So, I’ll probably be increasing it to two accompanying you when you go somewhere without me.”

“Do I get a vote? Do they have to be Devas? Because Kira and Lydia would be completely acceptable in my opinion.”

“I’ll follow up about Kira because she’s an experienced U.E.A. agent, but Lydia can’t because she’s a civilian. A civilian who is completely untrained for combat of any kind no less.”

“Discriminate much?” Stiles griped and Derek rolled his eyes, thankful that he knew Stiles well enough to not take him seriously at that.

“Yeah, I’m picky like that, you know, wanting the people I ask to protect you actually be able to do it.” He didn’t want Stiles to have to kill again for his own freedom and safety. “We’ll look over our options tomorrow.”

“Great, it’s not my job and I have to work. No wonder my dad is finding less to complain about you.”

Derek grinned slightly at that, at how put out Stiles sounded.

“Well, it was his idea.” It wasn’t, not exactly, but Stiles’ groan of frustration was worth the stretch of Sheriff Stilinski’s suggestion that Derek should find as much to keep Stiles entertained as possible for the sake of his own sanity.

“That man is so fired! He’s not my dad anymore. I’m trading him in for the new model!”

“Let me know how he takes that,” Derek replied as he indicated to Stiles that they’d reached the car.

He sort of tuned Stiles out for most of the drive home as he thought over what he could do to change things, to make it so Stiles could be safe without their help. Because despite Chris supporting Stiles maintaining the protection of the Devas without proof that it was completely necessary, for believing Derek’s instincts, Derek didn’t actually want that to be Stiles’ life.

It wasn’t a good life.

He wanted to be able to change that. He just needed to figure out how without using Stiles in any way.

* * *

Derek stared up at his ceiling, waiting for the noise in the room next door to subside as it had any other times he’d been woken up by the proof that Stiles wasn’t as unaffected by what had happened to him as he always appeared: the nightmares.

Stiles had nightmares easily every two or three nights. They’d kick in around two hours after he’d gone to sleep, make him restless for a few minutes, then he would wake up and stay awake for another hour or so, and then he’d fall back to sleep for the rest of the night.

And because Derek was so keyed in to anything happening in the apartment, his senses not dulled in the least to remain on alert while asleep, he was woken up just the same and then usually couldn’t fall back asleep until Stiles did. He was pretty sure Stiles had no idea he was awake, either. He certainly wasn’t going to say anything about it – Stiles not bringing it up and his own penchant for allowing privacy – and he was content to let Stiles handle it how he thought was best.

But tonight he hadn’t woken up yet. They were approaching thirty minutes, far beyond the norm, and Stiles was still tossing and turning while groaning in distress and Derek was reaching his limit on being able to let it go.

A few minutes later and nothing changed, so Derek let out a sigh and rolled off the bed. He stood, rubbing his hands over his face and through his hair as he moved toward his door and opened it to step into the hall. He turned left and then paused in front of Stiles’ closed door.

Stiles’ door was always closed if he was in his room. Derek didn’t know if it was a habit he’d always had or something he’d started because of being held by the Oni. And up until now, Derek had left him alone if he was back here or made sure to knock, but never entered. It had taken all of the first time it happened for him to decide that he would allow Stiles to have that space for himself, to not have the right to intrude just because it was his place.

He believed Stiles needed that everyone needed things to call their own, including space. And Stiles was lacking on having things of his own at the moment.

But that wasn’t what this was about right now. Stiles was suffering, Derek could tell. It was in his voice and breathing, screaming out to Derek that he should stop this, that he needed to help Stiles.

It wasn’t something he could deny Stiles anymore, allowing him to continue being in pain, even if it wasn’t physical.

So, Derek opened the door and stepped inside Stiles’ room. He didn’t take any time to look around, his gaze going straight for Stiles, his enhanced vision meaning he didn’t need the light to see clearly. He didn’t need any help to see how Stiles was thrashing back and forth in his bed, his blankets thrown all the way to the floor and his pajamas twisted around his limbs from moving around so much.

If it had been anyone but Stiles, he would have turned the light on before heading toward the bed: just because he didn’t need the light didn’t mean he should leave the other person at a disadvantage. But it didn’t make a difference to Stiles, so he didn’t bother. He just walked straight for Stiles, the path clear because Stiles had to keep it that way.

He sat down on the edge of Stiles’ bed next to the younger man’s side, folding one of his legs under him to sit on it so that he could comfortably face toward Stiles. He reached out and was going to take hold of Stiles’ shoulder to shake him a little and try to wake him up, but he didn’t make it that far. It was with a startle that he had to intercept Stiles’ hand suddenly striking out at his face, Stiles’ body following the motion so that there would have been reasonable strength behind the strike. Derek grabbed the wrist before it reached him, though, and held on as Stiles continued to thrash.

Worst case scenario, Stiles would have broken his hand if he’d connected; without his core suppressed, his body was tougher than other people’s, protecting him from injury.

Derek allowed the thought that maybe he should have let the hit land, that maybe it would have woken Stiles up easily enough.

But even with Derek holding on and restraining Stiles, he didn’t seem to be any closer to waking up than he’d been before Derek had walked across the room.

He took in a deep breath, figuring that there was no point to starting quieter and easing Stiles awake, but then he noticed something he hadn’t in his rush to just get to Stiles: his scent was wrong. He didn’t mean the panic, as sour and unpleasant as that was, it was still Stiles’ scent. But there was something right along with the rest of Stiles’ now familiar scent that had never been there before.

“Stiles! Wake up!” Derek called, holding securely to Stiles’ wrist and reaching across with his other hand to take hold of the far shoulder so he could add a little shake, careful to control the strength.

Stiles didn’t wake up, pulling against Derek’s hold a few times before he let out a panicked shout. Derek winced away from the sudden loud sound, not expecting it.

Deciding for a different approach that he hoped didn’t scare Stiles for the next week, he tapped into his core, activating the aspect of it that had earned the moniker “Shifter” and felt his throat alter.

He didn’t let it shift too much, just loosen enough that his voice would come out as a growl. And then he yelled, the sound coming out as a roar.

Stiles shot awake and Derek relaxed his grip so he could, leaning back a little so he wasn’t in the path. Stiles was pale, breathing hard, and shaking and Derek didn’t want to see him like that.

He released the shift, feeling his voice return to normal and he reached out again for Stiles, speaking just before he made contact to hopefully keep from startling him too much more. “Stiles, it’s me,” he announced as he rested his hand over Stiles’ elbow, frowning at how Stiles’ skin felt cold.

And Stiles didn’t react at all to his voice or his touch.

Derek held on just a bit more securely and repeated his call of Stiles’ name.

That time, Stiles shook his head a little and looked toward Derek.

No, not toward Derek. Even in the darkness of the room, Derek could tell the difference. Stiles wasn’t looking toward the sound of his voice but was looking _at_ Derek. Because a few weeks around each other constantly and Derek had gotten used to Stiles’ gaze. He always ended up with his eyes directed a bit over one of his shoulders, angling off because he was listening. There were times where he’d get closer to “eye contact” when he was really trying to make a point, but he always preceded that by putting a hand on Derek’s shoulder or even head, needing that help in pinpointing the right angle to direct his eyes.

But, right now, he was looking right at Derek, no help from having a hand on Derek, and his eyes had looked directly into Derek’s without any indication that he was guessing. And just the _way_ his eyes looked, somehow not having any sort of passivity, was different.

He could see?

“Derek, I’m gonna puke,” Stiles announced suddenly and Derek reflexively stood, then reached back for Stiles and urged him to his feet and toward the door, aiming to get him to the bathroom and an easier cleanup if Stiles didn’t make it.

He made it though, Stiles stumbling along in front of him as he kept one hand on Stiles’ arm and the other wrapped halfway around his waist as a stabilizer and probably being the only reason Stiles did make it with how often he felt the other man’s weight listing heavily in one direction or another.

Once they got to the bathroom, he eased his hold enough for Stiles to drop in front of the toilet. He stepped away, reaching for the light when Stiles spoke again, “Leave the light off. It doesn’t help.”

He wanted to ignore Stiles on that, turn on the light so he could see Stiles’ eyes pinpoint against the brightness and prove what he saw. Prove that Stiles’ eyes were functioning. But then Stiles was heaving and Derek grabbed the facecloth he’d been planning to grab and ran it under cold water and squeezed out the excess water before kneeling behind Stiles and holding the cloth against his neck.

He waited for the heaving to stop, Stiles vomiting twice before it seemed to pass. Stiles reached up and flushed, then shut the toilet lid so he could lean his forehead against it. Derek gave it a few seconds before he took a cautious breath, noticing that Stiles didn’t smell sick, just upset.

The scent he hadn’t recognized was gone as well, just the remains of it drifting around between Stiles’ room and the bathroom.

He shifted his position, moving from his knees to sit down on the floor with his back against the sink cabinet and he pulled the damp cloth off of Stiles’ neck as he felt a shudder go through Stiles' body. He still felt cold but his body was recovering. So, Derek laid his hand over the back of Stiles’ neck instead, hoping the warmth of his body would help.

It was almost like Stiles had been in shock.

What was Derek supposed to do with this? He had no clue what had happened outside of it being a nightmare, but even that didn’t feel right. But the unfamiliar scent, Stiles’ eyes obviously working, and his body’s reaction were just a combination of reasons to be concerned. He just had no clue where to start with this. Was he supposed to just let it go and help Stiles back to bed like nothing had happened? Or could he ask Stiles about it and get an answer?

He never expected straight answers from Stiles but would it be worth it to even try?

“I can hear you thinking,” Stiles muttered, Derek only actually understanding what he’d said because of his hearing and his attention being focused in by the familiarity of what Stiles had said, it being something he used to try and get Derek to open up when he was deep in thought.

“Yeah?” Derek replied noncommittally. He just didn’t know what else to say. He still didn’t know if he wanted to ask.

Stiles let out a sigh and moved away from the toilet, leaning his head back and scratching his fingers through his wild hair. Derek let his hand drop and he watched Stiles move. “You can turn on the light if you want,” Stiles said, more clearly. “I know you don’t need it to see, but it’s fine if you want it on.”

Derek frowned, hesitating. Why the change?

He accepted the offer, though. He stood and reached for the light switch, going for the smaller light over the mirror and he blinked as his own eyes adjusted to the change. He sat back down where he’d been as Stiles hadn’t moved any further and he watched the other man remain as still as he’d ever seen him. After a few seconds, Stiles let out another sigh, this one sounding relieved, before he sat down heavily, turning so that he faced Derek, his back resting against the wall across from the cabinet. His head was leaned back against the wall as well and his eyes were open, staring ahead unfocused.

The pupils weren’t dilated against the light, Derek noticed.

Stiles was blind. His eyes didn’t respond to what they couldn’t see.

There was no chance he’d mistaken what he’d seen. Sure, Stiles was the first person he’d met and spent time with who was blind, but he’d spent _a lot_ of time with Stiles and knew how he moved.

“It’s happened before,” Stiles suddenly announced and Derek actually focused on him.

“Which part?” Derek felt like that was the best way to ask.

“All of it. Not since I was taken, but once every few months before that.”

“And what is ‘it’?”

Stiles ran his hand down his face, then held the back of his neck as he pulled his legs up close to his chest, looking vulnerable, which just didn’t suit him. “Being a Beholder. Sometimes, regardless of what I want, it kicks in.”

Derek opened his mouth to say something twice but ended up not figuring out what to say and remaining silent. Finally, he settled on, “Why?”

“Dreaming memories taps into the left hemisphere that perceives the past, right hemisphere responsible for the future kicks in because I’m not focused, I follow it down the rabbit hole because I can’t tell the difference.”

That was how Beholders lost their minds, not being able to tell the difference. Was Stiles not safe from that after all?

“You looked at me,” Derek stated, though it came out like an accusation and he cringed a little.

“Yeah, well, I was still tapped in so there was something there to receive what my eyes were picking up. It usually takes a few seconds for me to stop getting visual information and it hurts like hell when its fading out, like the nerves are burning out all over again. The less I take in, the better it seems so I try not to move around. Not complaining, though, I appreciate not puking on the floor and having to clean it up.”

“So, you could actually see?” Derek paraphrased. Stiles hadn’t actually cleared that up at all, though he seemed to be a bit more disjointed than usual.

“Yes, I could actually see!” Stiles snapped back and Derek frowned. He couldn’t tell if that was Stiles snapping at him or the situation.

“Stiles…” he said in a low, calming voice. He didn’t want to make Stiles feel guilty for getting upset, but he did want to give him a reason to feel like he could be calm. What else was he supposed to do but keep on trying to be someone Stiles could trust?

Stiles let his head drop and let out another sigh. “I see when my core is active. But its not clear because I’m blind all the rest of the time. It’s fuzzy and confusing and everything’s way too fucking bright. Maybe if I left it on for longer, kept tapped into my core for as long as I could before I ran out of strength for the day, it might work alright, but then… I don’t know. I don’t know what then.”

Stiles went quiet and Derek watched his breathing gradually get shorter. It was only because he was watching Stiles so closely that he saw him tense up and took a wild guess as to what he was going to do.

It had been a while since he’d moved that fast, especially springing from the seated position he was in, but he managed to lunge to close the gap between them and get his hand around the back of Stiles’ head before it struck the wall so Derek’s hand took the impact instead, his other hand cupping Stiles’ cheek. He kneeled next to Stiles, staying close as it felt like Stiles would just pick up where he was interrupted if Derek let go.

Eventually, Derek didn’t even try to keep track of how long, Stiles let out a frustrated yell and curled toward Derek, dropping his forehead onto Derek’s arm because that’s what was in front of him.

Derek didn’t let go.

“I hate what I am,” Stiles whispered. “It’s nothing but a pain. And if I get it wrong, whatever the fuck ‘it’ is, it’s a pain that’s gonna get people killed.”

Derek had never disliked being a Shifter, had never thought that it wasn’t what he was supposed to be. But, unlike many dispositions, the core had formed inside him before he was born so there was literally never a time in his life that he wasn’t a Shifter. He just genuinely didn’t know any other way to be.

But seeing Stiles now, and watching him over the past few weeks, he didn’t question that Stiles was being completely honest. Derek had yet to see anything good about being a Beholder. It was a burden, to put it lightly. It earned Stiles’ hatred, in Derek’s opinion, even if Stiles was just upset right now and that wasn’t really how he felt most of the time.

But feeling like he should encourage a clarification, Derek leaned forward so he could whisper to Stiles, “Your disposition isn’t you. If it was gone, you’d still be Stiles. No one’s core, not even mine being there since I was born, is who a person is.”

Stiles’ breathing hitched before it was let out heavily. “Yeah, well, there’s times where I’m not so fond of him, either,” he said. The mood he was in, Derek didn’t doubt he was being sincere. Stiles was rough on himself on his best days, Derek had noticed.

“I am,” Derek said before he could even think about stopping himself, then he had to focus on keeping his breathing even and his body relaxed so Stiles didn’t get the wrong idea, that he actually regretted saying it. Sure, it probably wasn’t the best time, but it wasn’t a lie. Time had only helped him see more to like about Stiles.

Stiles stayed quiet and Derek felt that there was some tension back in his shoulders, but then Stiles was moving, wrapping an arm around Derek’s waist and the other coming up to grab at his wrist, both hands gripping into Derek’s skin tightly.

Stiles didn’t cry, Derek knew, but he held on for a long time.


	8. Revealing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek and Stiles allow themselves to see the situation between them as it is...

Derek sat on the couch, his back leaning against the armrest so he was facing toward the hallway that led down to the bedrooms. He’d long ago abandoned the cup of tea he’d thrown together, having done so more for the sake of giving him something to do for a minute. But now it just sat on the coffee table in front of the couch and cooled while he stared blankly down the hall toward the closed door of Stiles’ room.

Stiles had gone back to his room two hours ago after he finally pulled himself out of Derek’s hold after however long they’d stayed there. And he’d been very resolute in the action: he sat up straight to move away from Derek’s hands, stood up and walked to his room and closed the door behind him without turning around or hesitating in the least. And Derek had made a point to not intrude on Stiles’ privacy any longer, leaving the bathroom, closing that door behind him, and then going to the kitchen and the distance it gave him so he wouldn’t be scenting Stiles’ emotions.

He’d made his tea then sat on the couch and two hours ticked by with his mind completely on the man down the hall.

He could hear Stiles tossing in his bed every few minutes and when he listened closely enough, he could tell that his breathing wasn’t relaxed enough for him to be asleep.

So, they were both awake on opposite sides of the apartment with Stiles’ sudden tapping into his core and some emotional revelations keeping them awake.

Derek assumed, anyway. That’s why he was awake and Stiles hadn’t exactly been calmed by anything that had happened. And he may not be great about catching the subtle aspects of human interaction – especially if he wasn’t able to use his enhanced senses – but he wasn’t inept.

And this was Stiles. He felt…less uncertain about Stiles. He felt like he clicked with Stiles, like he understood Stiles in a way he didn’t understand many people.

But, at the same time, he felt like no one could confuse him like Stiles did.

Stiles was a contradiction to Derek, but it was the most captivating contradiction he’d ever met. And just because it was a contradiction didn’t mean there was something wrong, just that Derek could experience a wider range of emotions and it had been a long time since he’d had that in his life.

He missed it, how alive that made him feel. And it was just one of those things that he hadn’t known to miss until it was back.

Stiles was the sort of person Derek could see himself forming an affinity with.

He felt a wave of amusement at the thought that if he’d been asked what he imagined would be someone he’d form an affinity of _that_ kind with, it probably wouldn’t be anything like Stiles. But what you thought was best for you, what matched the closest, and what was actually what you needed were two very different things. Didn’t necessarily make one wrong, just different.

He vaguely remembered his dad telling him something like that once when he’d asked him about his affinity with his mom.

And both his parents had been adamant in telling him not to let life be wasted, to make sure the regrets didn’t pile up.

But then the problem became that he wasn’t good at this shit, the emotional stuff. He didn’t think it was fair that he could make things worse by trying not to miss out because that was his luck.

Stiles was moving in his room, more than just rolling around in his bed.

Well, Stiles wasn’t one to let things lie, either. Hell, he was better – or worse depending on who you talked to – about it than Derek was.

He listened to Stiles walk across his room to the door and pause before opening it, standing just inside for about a minute before he paced for another minute, then stopped in front of the door again. That was when he actually opened the door and walked toward the living room. He must have been paying attention just like Derek had been to head right for the living room instead of stopping off at the door to Derek’s room. But once he got to the end of the hall where it opened up to the living room, the kitchen off to his right, he hesitated and Derek saw the uncertainty.

“On the couch,” Derek said, keeping his voice low to try and not startle Stiles. Not that the younger man was exactly easy to startle, or at least he’d gotten good at hiding it, but Derek liked to think he at least tried to keep Stiles from having mild heart attacks every few minutes.

Stiles turned toward him and walked over, hesitating once he reached the couch, likely trying to figure out where Derek was sitting without having to ask.

“Right corner,” he announced.

Stiles nodded and sat down…on the middle cushion so he was right next to Derek, close enough that his arm was brushing against Derek’s leg.

But then they sat there in tense silence for a few minutes, it getting gradually more uncomfortable between them. Stiles had started fidgeting about thirty seconds in, his leg bouncing and his fingers tapping against where they rested on his legs. And it seemed like some of his attention was dedicated to his breathing, keeping it measured, because he definitely wasn’t breathing at a relaxed pace.

Eventually, Stiles sighed out a groan and let his head fall back against the cushion and closed his eyes. “So, I really like you,” he announced, his voice a little loud, like he was forcing it to sound strong. It certainly didn’t match any of his body language. “I think it’s a little unfair of you to make the disabled guy come out and say it first, but whatever. But me being here is your job and I don’t know if that’s gonna screw with that. I don’t want to screw with your job because you really seem to like it and you’re good at it and I may take this to the extreme but I’ve always thought that not saying anything is a waste and you’ve been giving me a lot of indications that I may not be off-base in feeling this way.”

“Stiles, hold on,” Derek interrupted the rush of words from Stiles, reaching out to take hold of Stiles’ elbow because he’d learned that it was easier to get Stiles’ attention when he got going with physical contact, then kept his hand resting there because Stiles didn’t pull away and didn’t seem like he wanted the touch gone. Stiles picked his head up and looked toward Derek, his blank gaze back to the usual off-center over Derek’s shoulder. No looking straight at Derek’s face because he could see that’s where it was. “Being a Deva has nothing to do with right now. People wouldn’t last long as one if all there was to their life was chasing down and fighting Oni. So, any part of your nervous rambling was worrying about this means for you staying here, just forget it.”

“Forget it, right. Easy peasy. Like trigonometry easy. Though I have forgotten practically everything I learned in trig, so maybe that isn’t the best analogy to make.” Stiles was still mostly rambling. Derek let him.

Stiles picked up his head, pulled his feet onto the couch and rested his chin on his knees, the position making him look young and vulnerable. It was ironic, Derek thought, that there were very few times when Stiles gave off the impression of being vulnerable. And usually when he did, it was on purpose and he was being manipulative. Regardless of Stiles’ situation, there was nothing vulnerable or weak about him.

Which was likely part of why Derek found him so appealing. He didn’t _need_ Derek around, but wanted him.

“You know, Lydia is the only person I have an affinity with, right?” Stiles suddenly asked.

“I’d assumed as much since your dad isn’t a user. Was your mom?” He’d never checked once he’d learned she was dead.

“Nope, no cores in my family. And both my parents were only children so not even any distant relatives to get all chummy with. But because affinities are connections between cores and I hadn’t gotten close enough to anyone before Lydia to form one, it scared the shit out of me. See, they all say how awesome of a thing it is to form an affinity with someone, but they never talk about how fucking terrifying it is. And then I get one and it kicks off my abilities in a way that gets someone killed. Sure, I didn’t know that at the time but so far, my affinity is one-and-oh for making me see death. There’s nothing great about that; just ask Lydia.”

“Every affinity is different. Different relationships mean different aspects of the cores reach out to each other. Your affinity with Lydia, it’s already saved you. Not everyone can say that. Usually it’s just this _thing_ there in the back of your head that just exists, like something always out of the corner of your eye. But, at the same time, it’s something that belongs.”

Stiles turned so his temple was resting on his knee instead so he was facing toward Derek. “You’ve had affinities?”

“Yeah, with my parents and my older sister. But no one since.”

“No friends? I thought you had one with Boyd. I mean, he said you’ve worked together for years and you’ve had each other’s backs and get along. That’s all the makings of a good old-fashioned bro affinity.”

Derek smiled a little at that. He wondered how much it would throw Boyd off if he quoted that to him randomly. “Platonic affinities, the ones between friends, tend to take more time. And the older you get, the more time it needs. We work together but aren’t really around each other enough for our cores to make the connection.”

“Then you don’t have an affinity either?”

“No, not for a long time,” Derek admitted, sounding much more passive about it than he felt.

After all, Shifters usually formed affinities easier than other dispositions. Something about the enhanced instincts made connecting to others not as complicated.

“Great,” Stiles said sarcastically. “You know, you were supposed to be the voice of experience on this part. I mean, I’m not drowning in experience otherwise. You know, with the whole relationship thing, but I’m not starting from scratch there.”

They might _actually_ talk about their relationship and if it would change if Stiles kept along this vein. Though that could turn on a dime with Stiles guiding the conversation.

“Yeah, if we formed an affinity, it would be my first one of this kind. But I’m sure affinities have been subjected to your late-night research binges and you know they don’t form between just anyone. Even people that are together for years, if the emotions aren’t there, it doesn’t take hold.” Derek took in a deep breath and let his hand trail along Stiles’ arm to grasp his hand. “I know it becomes this ultimate endgame for users when they get into a relationship, but I wouldn’t mind seeing what we get when it’s just us. You know, being us. Together. If that’s what you want.” He’d started out pretty strong, but was faltering the more personal it got, the more real it got. He didn’t believe what he said any less, but he was realizing that once he asked, Stiles could say no.

“So, you’re saying to drop the affinity talk for now and just live in the moment?”

“That’s what we have to work with. Unless you’re going to cheat about it,” Derek finished with a slight smirk.

Stiles gave a slight grin in return, “Nah, I’m not one for life spoilers, especially unreliable ones like I get.”

Derek reached out with his other hand as he leaned a little closer to Stiles, resting it on the younger man’s cheek. “Stiles, I really do like you. I have since shortly after we met.”

He felt the tension in Stiles’ neck. “But?” Stiles prompted and Derek frowned.

“No ‘but’. I like you, Stiles. I want to have whatever sort of relationship you do. I was content to just take what I could get and try not to make a big deal out of it in case you weren’t interested. Seems like it’s a moot point because apparently you want the same thing I do.”

“Apparently.” Stiles’ head shot up and dislodged Derek’s hand. “Wait, what do you mean if I wasn’t interested? What about your almighty wolf nose that can actually pick up scents of emotions? How the hell did you miss it?”

“I try not to scent people if I don’t need to. Feels like an invasion of privacy. And I’ve sort of been really careful about that with you since you haven’t exactly had privacy for a while. I didn’t want to do anything to intrude. So, I’ve been closing off as much of my enhanced senses when it’s just us.”

“Huh, chivalry isn’t dead, but it is a cockblock,” Stiles mused and Derek couldn’t keep from rubbing his free hand over his face at the statement. “So, we’re in agreement that we’re gonna give this thing between us a shot?”

“I’d say so,” Derek replied after a short pause where he observed Stiles suspiciously. He thought he heard a shift in Stiles’ tone.

“Legit dating? I am your boyfriend and you are mine?”

“Yes, that’s the common nomenclature for it.”

“Okay, then I want a first kiss. I don’t want some nerve-wracking dinner and a movie to get to it. I just want to get it over with so we can say we did it and get things moving. Besides, I’m pretty sure we’ve already skipped around some of the traditional steps in getting here so it’s not like we’re committing some atrocity.”

“Stiles, stop it,” Derek cut in to interrupt the return of Stiles’ rambling. He was sort of surprised Stiles had managed to get out his request before he got going instead of it getting put off.

“Rude,” was all Stiles said. “Oh, but first, I need to look at you.”

Derek lifted an eyebrow at that, his mind flashing back to that moment when Stiles had seen him and he was confused. “Haven’t you already?” he asked.

“If you’re referring to a few hours ago, no I couldn’t see you. I told you things are fuzzy and it was dark in there. I got your outline but am wonderfully lacking on the details. I mean, Scott gave me the basics but what he said couldn’t even satisfy a sketch artist. Now, it’s been a while since I’ve done it, but I used to be really good at getting an idea of what people look like. I just need to get all touchy=feely.”

“Of course you do.”

“Hey, totally gonna fess up to ulterior motives here. But I’m not all that fond of asking someone I don’t even have a good picture of to kiss me.”

“But you did already ask me,” Derek pointed out with a smirk.

“And I reserve the right to retract the request based completely upon hotness factor,” Stiles shot back as he sat up straight and turned on the couch to face Derek, crossing his legs in front of him so their knees touched. “So, can I see you?” he asked as he held his arms out, hands open, palms up, and waited for Derek to answer, serious once he was still.

This was important.

To both of them, Derek realized.

“Of course,” he replied. “Whatever you want.”

Stiles looked relieved that he had agreed, but then his expression became serious and focused as he straightened out his arms until his hands connected with Derek’s body just below his chest. They paused there for a few seconds, pressing against the muscle of his torso before moving up over Derek’s chest and to his shoulders. He followed the lines of Derek’s sternum out to the width of his shoulders and then back in and up to his neck.

“Ok, I knew you were built because I grab your arms a lot, but I think this might just be unfair,” Stiles muttered.

“You can sort of blame the wolf Shifter core for that. Between the accelerated healing to protect against muscle injury or loss and how it balances out the body, it makes it easy to build and maintain muscle mass.”

“That’s really hot,” Stiles replied absently but in a way that was completely serious and Derek shook his head. He wondered if Stiles had some sort of kink for learning random information and if he’d have to stock up on useless factoids.

Then Stiles’ hands tickled up the line of his throat and his attention was captivated by the feel. He liked Stiles’ hands on him, especially like this where it was just touching to get more familiar.

Stiles had touched his face before, but mostly as passing grazes and not usually on the cheek. So, he knew Derek had some scruff, but when he started scratching his fingers through his short beard, following the line along the bottom of his jaw and up his cheek, Derek thought he was spending a lot of time there.

“It’s softer than I thought it’d be,” Stiles remarked. “I haven’t paid attention to it. Or I was making sure I didn’t pay it any attention so I didn’t get all creeper when I needed a point of reference. But your throat matches your voice.”

“What does that even mean?” Derek asked, amused.

Stiles grinned back at him. “You’d understand if you were blind. Now stop distracting me. I’m going for picture perfect mugshot here.”

“Funny, I remember you talking first.”

Stiles’ fingers followed the top of his beard between hair and skin along his check and to the sides of his nose and then along the line of his mustache before dropping down to feel his lips. He didn’t spend as much time there, though, and was soon going back up to his nose and then higher on his face to feel the shape of his nose and back out along his cheeks under his eyes to his temples. He then traced the lines of Derek’s forehead, feeling along his eyebrows until his hands met in the middle of his face and then went down the bridge of his nose. Then Derek closed his eyes as fingers gently prodded along his eye socket and over his eyelids. The wandering fingers finally halted and he flattened his palms down the span of Derek’s face, like he was putting all the pieces together.

“What color are your eyes?” Stiles asked.

“Uh, green?” Derek settled on, recalling how people claimed they seemed to change color. That was what was on all his identifications, so it was good enough to go with.

“Is there _anything_ average about you?” Stiles replied and Derek couldn’t help but smile a little at his tone, the motion brushing against the side of Stiles’ palms. “You got a good smile,” he added in a lower tone.

He felt Stiles’ weight shift, felt him move closer and he had to concentrate to keep from moving. He wanted to take hold of Stiles’ hands and move them so he could kiss him. He wanted to kiss Stiles so much now. Sitting close to him for a while now and then having Stiles just filling his awareness and senses like this meant he knew of nothing but Stiles. And having his hands on him, so gentle and curious and purposeful – all things he attributed to Stiles – just made him want him all the more.

But this was Stiles’ call, so he gripped his fingers into his pants legs so they didn’t touch Stiles until he made the first move.

Not that he had to wait long. Stiles’ hands slid to the sides of his face and he closed the remaining distance between them to press his lips against Derek’s in a firm kiss. With the first move made and Stiles not giving any indication that he was about to decide this wasn’t what he wanted, Derek curled one hand around the back of Stiles’ neck and the other took hold of one of his hands as he pressed into the kiss and took in a deep breath of Stiles’ scent _right there_ against him, picking up all the things he’d been purposefully avoiding taking in.

Which may not have been the best idea considering how that meant he ran his tongue along Stiles’ lips to delve into his mouth to taste him as well as scent him, but Stiles groaned against his lips so at least he didn’t mess things up right away. And he really liked how Stiles’ tasted, despite the lingering toothpaste taste from when he’d brushed his teeth after vomiting a few hours ago. He was surrounded by Stiles – his taste, his scent, the sound of his breathing and his heartbeat, the warmth of his skin – and he felt satisfied for the first time in a long time.

As they eased out of the kiss, Stiles chasing Derek’s tongue with his own to take a few licks of his own before it became just a touch of lips against each other again, Derek felt simultaneously like he wasn’t ready for it to be done and that he needed to back off just a little or he’d get caught up in everything. He hadn’t been with anyone in a while and he wanted to enjoy this with Stiles. That wouldn’t happen if he let things go too fast to the point that he lost traction.

So, he let the kiss end, but pressed another to the skin off to the side of Stiles’ lips before he nudged his forehead against Stiles’ temple affectionately. Stiles let out a content sigh, seeming to be pulling himself together, and relaxed his forehead against Derek’s. After a few quiet seconds, Stiles lowered his head to Derek’s shoulder, his face turned in towards his neck and he muttered, “Can we just get comfortable here?”

Derek couldn’t help but smile at the request. Keeping his hand on the back of Stiles’ neck, his other hand moved up to Stiles’ shoulder to keep him close while he changed position. He unfolded his legs and extended them to either side of Stiles’ hips and levered himself on the armrest to move a bit, Stiles following so he could lay down, his shoulders and neck still pillowed against the armrest. Stiles moved to kneel between his legs, but once his legs were stretched out, he laid forward onto Derek, then picked up his legs to he was laying along the entire length of his body, wedged between Derek and the back of the couch.

As appealing as the position was, Derek knew Stiles was an active sleeper and hoped that this would help mitigate that. He really wanted this to last as long as possible.

But, for now, Stiles snuggled into Derek’s neck again and let out a heavy sigh, sounding relaxed.

“Can we not need an early morning tap into my core to get us to take steps in our relationship next time? I’m not complaining with the results, but we should be capable of being adults in this.”

And Stiles was already making sarcastic remarks about this change between them.

Derek wasn’t surprised.

* * *

The late night and early morning with Stiles ended up making his morning much more complicated than he thought it should have.

He’d left his phone, which was his alarm, on his nightstand when he’d come out to the living room, not expecting to fall asleep out there. So, when he woke up to the distant sound of his alarm sounding, he let out a frustrated groan. And, of course, he didn’t want to be awake because of how little sleep he’d gotten so he felt even less inclined to get up.

It really didn’t help that Stiles had somehow managed to turn around in his sleep – without hitting Derek a dozen times in the process – so that he was still laying along Derek’s body but was now facing the back of the couch. And he was deeply asleep, Derek’s hearing and higher alert likely the only reason he’d been woken up by his alarm from across the apartment. Seeing Stiles actually resting just brought back how difficult the Beholder’s night had been.

But he had to get up to either start getting ready for work or he’d have to call and tell them not to expect him in at his usual time. He could work from home, pull up status for all the Devas assigned to the division and decide who to add to Stiles’ protection detail just as easily here.

He thought for a second that he’d just let Stiles decide, then changed his mind when he realized that Stiles would just pick whatever let him stay asleep.

So, Derek eased himself out from under Stiles, successfully transferring Stiles’ body from mostly laying on him to laying comfortably on the couch. And once he was clear, Stiles rolled onto his back, stretched his arms above his head, and let out a deep sigh as he relaxed into that position. Derek shook his head with a slight smile as he stood and headed toward his room.

He turned off his alarm and checked to make sure he didn’t miss anything, relieved that there were no texts or missed calls, but then he just stood there next to his bed as his mind started to wander.

He and Stiles were together. It was strange how similar it felt to what they had been before while it was also completely different. He guessed it was because it wasn’t a change in his feelings since he’d been attracted to Stiles for a while now, but the difference was in that he knew that those feelings were returned and now he was free and welcome to act on those feelings.

Just like Stiles was able to do with him.

He wondered if things would be slow-going between them. After all, it took two weeks of being around each other practically all the time for them to talk it out. Derek was uncertain about these sort of things and while Stiles seemed a bit more confident – or it was just a side-effect of his nonexistent brain-to-mouth filter – he hadn’t exactly approached the topic freely. It was, of course, possible that their hesitation up until now wouldn’t be a factor but Derek didn’t like to assume things.

And despite his confidence in dismissing the subject of affinities a few hours ago, he did have some concern over why he hadn’t felt his core even trying to reach for Stiles with how much time they spent together. Two sides of an affinity didn’t have to know of the feelings of the other for their core to reach out and try to form an affinity. His core should have been reaching for Stiles, and Stiles’ core should have been doing exactly the same thing.

Affinities weren’t everything but they were signs of a healthy core as well as a strong relationship. Was there something wrong with him? Did his distrust of people run so deep that his core just didn’t reach out to anyone?

That wasn’t fair to Stiles.

Fuck, he was getting worked up about this and there might not even be a problem. Affinities were as individual as cores themselves. There was the norm, but that didn’t mean it was a given for it to apply to everyone. He just needed to remember that and be patient. An affinity would form if it was going to form. It didn’t mean he actually cared about Stiles any less. He knew his emotions; that wasn’t in question. The issue – if there was one – wasn’t that he didn’t care.

He let out a heavy sigh, which turned into a yawn halfway through and he was reminded that he’d been considering making it a later day so he could try and get a little more sleep. More than anything, he didn’t want to put Stiles at risk because he was too tired to pay attention.

But Boyd would ask him why he’d changed his schedule and he likely wouldn’t manage avoiding telling his friend. It didn’t help that he’d have to tell Boyd and Scott just in case the affinity formed. As a Deva, Derek was required to log all affinities so this wasn’t anything because of Stiles’ position.

Thinking it over, Stiles would probably tell Scott without the other Deva even asking. That had become a norm between them, the two becoming fast friends that Derek would be very surprised if they lost contact ever again once Stiles was removed from Deva protection.

So, it was probably best if he just dealt with the fatigue and went to work. It’d be easier in the long run and he could always call it an early day if nothing came up needing his attention. He set his phone back down on his nightstand and left the room, turning left toward the bathroom for a quick shower. He finished quickly since he’d still have to wake up Stiles and let him have time to get ready as well, drying off and wrapping the towel around his waist for the walk back to his room. He opened the bathroom door and listened for Stiles, stepping out once he heard his relaxed breathing still coming from the living room.

He made quick work of getting dressed and grabbed his phone and jacket before heading back for the living room, setting the items on the island before heading toward Stiles, who still hadn’t moved.

He kneeled on the floor next to Stiles’ head and pulled Stiles’ arms from where they were still stretched over his head, then ran his fingers through wild black hair.

“Stiles, time to get up. We need to get going,” Derek said, just a little louder than his normal speaking voice. No way would Stiles wake up if he talked quieter; he’d learned that quickly, that there was no “handling with care” when it came to rousing Stiles.

And Stiles did show signs of waking up, letting out a groan as he rolled toward Derek, nearly rolling himself off the couch in the process but Derek moved a hand down to his side and was able to push him back before he went too far. Sure, he’d heard Stiles roll out of bed a few times over the past few weeks, but Derek didn’t feel like being underneath Stiles when he did it now.

“Come on, Stiles. I’m not letting you stay asleep so you might as well wake up now,” Derek declared.

Stiles groaned again, then muttered, “Head hurts.”

Derek wasn’t surprised by that, not with the night Stiles had gone through. “We can get you something or you can head out with Scott later if you want to give it a chance to pass on its own. But we need to get going to get to the office.”

Stiles let out a heavy sigh before he pushed himself to a seated position and rubbed his hand over his face.

“You know what would be the most convenient thing to have around right now? Some guy that can pull pain and help me out here,” Stiles groused, Derek not sure if he was really asking or not.

“If I didn’t need you to wake up, I would. But it’s actually knocked people out from how lethargic it makes them.” Derek had heard, anyway: he hadn’t used his own ability enough to know if it was true. He learned how to do it, but that had been it.

“That does me absolutely no good. Damn, this sucks. You at least have headphones or something I can use? I bet my hearing could rival yours right now.”

“Yeah, I’ll get them while you’re getting ready. Maybe the shower will help ease it up a bit.”

“Hopefully.”

Derek stood and touched Stiles’ hand, Stiles taking hold and using Derek to lever himself to stand, keeping hold for another few seconds as he winced and brought his other hand up to his temple and pressed his fingers against his skin. Derek breathed in, taking an inventory of Stiles’ scent and didn’t know if he was relieved or not when he didn’t pick up any putridity of illness. So, Stiles wasn’t sick, just in pain.

“I’m fine, big guy,” Stiles suddenly said in a tone obviously meant to calm him. “Tension headaches are a thing and I have a reason for one to kick in. Bonus is I don’t have to deal with light sensitivity so yay blindness. Let me just run through the shower and when we get to the office, I’ll commandeer one of the holding rooms and get some more sleep. Should be enough for it to pass.”

“You sure?” Derek had to ask.

“Crystal.”

Derek frowned. “’Crystal sure’?”

“Well, yeah, what else would it be?”

Derek sighed then. “You don’t have to prove you’re alright. It’s too early to decipher your more outrageous statements and I got just as little sleep as you did.”

“No need to get all Grouchywolf about it. Sourwolf is sufficient.” Derek glared at the side of Stiles’ head as he turned to walk toward the hall, and Derek couldn’t help but note that Stiles didn’t seem hindered by the pain. He was still making the slight turns around the corner of the couch and lining himself up with the hall as accurately as he always did.

They could do this: be together and still be like they were before. It should just be an amplification of what they were, if Derek’s mom had been accurate. The only way it changed was with how they made it change, for good or bad.

Derek just _really_ needed it to be as much “for good” as he could manage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it was about this time writing the fic that I realized that I hadn't had a physical conflict, like a fight, and I was at chapter 8 and 40kish words in. It had all been emotional or situational conflict. But the thing was, it was mostly because I was decided that I didn't want there to have been any fight to interfere with Derek and Stiles getting together. I wanted it to happen naturally and not because of a threat right in their face basically forcing their hand in some way. With these guys, it was important to me that it be that way.  
> I'm very happy with the feedback I've gotten that doesn't indicate that you guys have minded it all that much and thank you for keeping with me! ^_^  
> See you next chapter!


	9. How To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things need to change in how they are approaching the Oni threat...

“And where’s he now? The three of us are here,” Boyd pointed out from where he sat on the other side of Derek’s desk next to Scott.

Derek had just told the two of them about him and Stiles getting together, stumbling through it as he decided what he should and shouldn’t reveal. Neither of the other Devas were surprised in the least, watching him with what he was sure was amusement as he talked.

“He woke up with a headache and went to one of the holding rooms to try and sleep it off. I have the security on display,” Derek said with a wave toward his computer screen, which showed Stiles laying on a couch and the door confirmed secured with no one having tried to access the room.

“This isn’t an affinity heads-up, is it?” Scott asked, frowning in a way that Derek wasn’t sure he should be cautious of or not. He’d never gotten the impression that Scott had anything against relationships of people of the same gender and it was a very old-school thing to have a problem with but people had surprised him with their hate before.

“With this being an off-the-record talk between us, not currently. I’ll be submitting the appropriate documentation for that, along with a mandatory appointment for you with Human Resources,” he finished with a scowl.

Scott looked confused for a few seconds and then moderately panicked and he rushed to clarify, “I just meant is that why you guys decided to go out, because the affinity formed and you figured out the other liked you. Because Stiles has been kinda nervous about it the past few days, thinking that he’d say something and find out that you didn’t like him like that and they’d have to find somewhere else to place him for protection because you wouldn’t want him around anymore.” Boyd punched Scott’s arm to interrupt the rambling. Scott looked between the other two Devas and noticed the matching flat looks they were giving him. “He was starting to have a tough time with it is all.”

“No, an affinity hasn’t formed between us,” Derek repeated. “We just talked it out.”

“Cool,” Scott replied absently, Derek raising an eyebrow at how his attention was already seeming to wander.

“I’m not boring you, am I?” he asked.

Scott snapped back to attention and the tips of his ears darkened a little. “No, I’m just thinking.”

“You should definitely stop, then,” Boyd remarked. He moved on to talking to Derek again to keep Scott from getting the chance to retort. “I’m happy for you, Derek. You know I am. But why tell us now?”

“A couple reasons. First and foremost, Stiles will probably at least tell Scott either way so it’s not like it would stay a secret and I don’t want it to be.”

“Fair point,” Scott interjected with a grin.

“While it won’t affect my position protecting him, there may be differences that I know you two are skilled enough to notice. And there may be times when I’m with him now that I will not be there as a Deva.”

“Just what I wanted to do when I grew up: chaperone date night.” Boyd said as he slouched a little into his seat, ignoring the glare Derek sent his way.

Derek paused a little as he considered whether or not to reveal the next point. But he really wanted to and so he continued, “And besides that there isn’t much we do outside of work together, I wanted the two of you to know because I consider you friends.”

Well, that had surprised them and Derek felt sort of proud of that, enough that it easily surpassed the embarrassment he’d felt about making such a declaration even if it was true.

“Oh, well, thanks,” Scott said, obviously not sure what to say. Boyd, being closer to Derek than Scott, recovered quicker and crossed his arms as he smirked at Derek.

“If these are the results, you guys are welcome to take as many steps into this relationship as you want. Before we know it, Derek’ll be greeting everyone with a bear hug and a kiss to each cheek.”

“No, I won’t,” Derek deadpanned smoothly. “Now, as far as official changes to our protection of Stiles, it was recommended that we bring in one more Deva, ideally two. I’m going to follow up on if we can ask a U.E.A. agent or if it has to be a Deva.”

“Is that something coming down the wire from Argent?” Boyd asked.

“Yeah, that was his recommendation considering it’s not something we’ve done before. He did say that we haven’t really done anything wrong in how we’ve handled it so far, just that two people splitting the guard could wear them out and mean a mistake gets made.”

Scott frowned at that. “Nice to know he has such confidence in us. Four Devas on one assignment is overkill, isn’t it? Aren’t we supposed to be the best at this?”

“Maybe if we weren’t working so blind, we wouldn’t need to be taking such a cautious approach, but that’s not the case. We don’t know what we’re fighting here so we need to be ready for anything.”

“You looking to add Kira? She’s already worked with Stiles plenty since he came here and she’s a damn good fighter.”

“Yes, she’s who I was going to ask about. Stiles actually brought it up because he wanted to ask her. I don’t know if it was because he knows she can fight or if he just doesn’t want to deal with anyone he hasn’t met and gotten familiar with.”

It had taken Derek a while to notice how uncomfortable it really made Stiles to meet new people. He flowed with a situation so well that Derek didn’t pick up at first how much more concentration it required for Stiles to get what he needed from a first interaction. Luckily, him being there with the Devas didn’t remain a spectacle for very long and people paid him as much attention as they did a regular consultant: noticed he was there and then went back to work.

“She’s between assignments right now so it would be the perfect time to ask before someone else calls for her help,” Scott said absently and Boyd grinned at him.

“You know that for sure, do you?”

Scott got a little flustered and Derek admitted he was being extremely easy to mess with today; that happened every once in a while, where Scott would show his age in this way. “Well, she happened to mention it the other day how it was weird she had a few days where she wasn’t answering some request from halfway across the country to help out some agents or Devas. She’s just so good at what she does that it doesn’t happen very often.”

“Do you guys have another Deva here that you would recommend I check into adding?” Derek tried to keep them on track so they could actually make progress today.

Stiles rolling over on the couch in the holding room caught Derek’s attention enough that he looked completely at his monitor and checked to see if Stiles was awake. Then he realized how anxious he was being about it considering the events of last night and he figured he was looking for signs of another nightmare, or worse, a tap into his core.

When he looked back to Boyd and Scott, Boyd was giving him a curious look so he knew he’d been caught and Boyd was likely to have an idea of what he was feeling because he knew him.

“Isaac?” Scott suggested and Derek thought it over for a second.

“Maybe if things don’t go through with Kira, but he’s currently active on another case. He reported last night that he got a lead on the Changeling he’s been after for the past two months.”

“Still don’t know why that was given to him and not me,” Scott groused. “The guy can change his appearance so why not assign someone who doesn’t need to look at a person to identify them.”

“Because at the time he was registered as an Oni, you were failing to identify disposition scents and barely passing naming who scents belonged to. And Isaac is good at reading people. He’s tracked the guy down three times and has identified him even while disguised each time but hasn’t been able to get in position to secure him. Maybe next time don’t complain about not getting an assignment to the person who gave them and knows exactly why it wasn’t given to you.”

Scott looked like he still wanted to object but was also effectively chastised that it wouldn’t have gone well if he tried. “Right.”

“Erica is available and has been getting pretty anxious for her next assignment. It might be good for her to get something that can help her work on some patience,” Boyd said quickly to keep things from getting awkward.

Derek thought it over. “You think she could handle it? I don’t want her needing to work on her patience meaning she attacks someone who she thinks looks at Stiles wrong.”

“Come on, she doesn’t go looking for fights. Just never passes one up. And she is really good at keeping a low profile when she absolutely needs to. Besides, her and Stiles would get along fantastically.”

At that, Derek felt real hesitation. “I don’t know if anyone would deserve to be subjected to that level of sarcasm and wit. They could just as easily hate each other.”

Boyd shrugged. “Couldn’t hurt to give them a try. Stiles has been pretty agreeable so far.”

“I don’t what you’re doing to see that, but that’s not the first word I attribute to Stiles,” Derek responded with a raise of his eyebrow.

“I’m just talented like that. It’s helps to not be a Sourwolf,” Boyd responded as he obviously struggled to hold in a smirk.

Because of course Stiles would have shared that nickname with Boyd and likely Scott – by the smirk the Shifter had on his face that he was trying to hide – though Boyd would be the only one brave enough to actually call him that.

“Then I guess you’re obviously much more suited to making the call to the U.E.A. and briefing Erica on the assignment.”

“Of course I am. That’s why I’m here, to do all the hard work for you.”

“Good, you know your place.”

Boyd did smirk this time. “Yes, Almighty Alpha. Your wish is my command. Would you like me to assemble a mighty feast for you as well?”

“Hell no, you can’t cook for shit.”

Boyd laughed as he stood and walked back toward his own desk, Scott staying behind and looking like he wanted to say something else, his expression serious.

“You have something to add?” Derek asked, making sure his voice didn’t come out too much like a growl.

“I was just thinking about something Stiles said. Did you know his dad taught him how to shoot?”

That seemed like a strange thing to bring up. “He said something along those lines once, yeah. Why, did he talk to you about it?”

“We were just talking and he told me that his dad taught him how to shoot before he lost his vision. After he lost it, they did more work with hand-to-hand combat, teaching him to be able to feel out a person’s position and take them down from that. I’ve trained with him a few times, grabbing at him and he’s damn good at putting me on my ass. But from what he’s said, I think that also helped him still be able to shoot as long as he’s got someone to call where to aim.”

“Ok, but why bring it up now?”

“I was just thinking that Devas are as much about making sure people can take care of themselves as protecting them. I mean, how many training programs do we offer with only the sole requirement besides passing the minimum power requirement being that they work as a Deva for two years, which includes the time they are in training? We want people to not be restricted to someone else looking after them when we can show them how to look after themselves, especially if their disposition is one that will make that easier. The less strain on official agencies, the better we can do our jobs.

“Stiles is a cool guy and I’m happy to help him out. But he deserves to be here because he wants to be. Maybe we can get him closer to that if we just help him learn better ways to fight back against the Oni.”

Derek didn’t actually have a problem with that. Just because he would prefer to never have Stiles need to defend himself again definitely didn’t mean he didn’t want Stiles to be as prepared for that to happen as he possibly could be.

Most Devas didn’t carry a gun. For many, it was just pointless because of their disposition. For others, their duties within the Devas didn’t call for them to need one. U.E.A. agents were much more likely to carry than Devas, and even then only about half did.

He just didn’t know if Stiles would be allowed to carry. It was possible he’d have to figure out how to make it happen unofficially. He might get in trouble if he was figured out, but it wasn’t his job to make people happy.

Personally, he wasn’t a fan of guns, and not only because they really were superfluous for him with the abilities that came along with his disposition. Hell, it wasn’t even a big deal to get shot with his accelerated healing. But, more than anything, gunshots hurt like hell to hear. Regardless, he had learned how to shoot just like all Devas and was good at it – again, his disposition helped – and he wondered if all he had to do was figure out how to work with Stiles on it most efficiently.

He glanced down at his monitor to see that Stiles had shifted position again but still seemed to be asleep.

Derek would bring it up to him when he woke up if he had managed to shake the headache.

* * *

“You sure you wanna do this?” Stiles asked for the third time. “I don’t want you to go deaf with this. Because deaf and blind make for a complicated combination, even in different people.”

Derek put in his ear plugs, already having tightened his control over his core so things were a bit muted as it was. It felt unnatural and he figured he would have to practice cutting his hearing out quickly if he wanted this to be as effective of an option as it could be.

Stiles had been difficult to read as to how he felt about the whole thing and Derek was wondering if he didn’t actually want to do this. Stiles had already proven that he would put his personal feelings aside to make sure things get done.

He reached into the duffel he’d used to bring everything and pulled out the weapon case that held the gun he’d decided on trying out with Stiles, figuring it was one he was likely as familiar with as Derek was.

“I’ve already cut off most of my hearing so it shouldn’t be any louder for me than it is for you,” Derek replied as he pulled out the gun and then the clip, setting them both on the table in front of him as Stiles stepped up behind him, following his voice and the sound of his movement.

“What’d you bring?” Stiles asked, reaching out for the table.

“Glock 19. I figured it was likely one you’d had experience with considering how many police carry them and that you learned when you were younger so I thought your dad would go for a lighter option.”

“So smart,” Stiles joked, running his fingers along the surface of the table until he touched the grip. “Been a while since I shot anything, but yeah I’ve shot a 19 since I was eight, graduated through others when I got better.”

Derek took a step to the side and crossed his arms as he watched Stiles pick up the weapon and used his fingers to check that there was no clip inserted, then took hold of the slider and pulled it back, tucking his finger into the ejection port to check if there was a bullet there. That was already a good show of basics: never trust someone else to tell you if a gun is loaded and always check for yourself.

Stiles set the weapon back on the table and turned to lean back against it as he crossed his arms, looking stiff.

“What did you guys do to adapt to your blindness?” Derek asked.

“Drilled two things for hours. First was to get to where I always automatically aimed straight out from my chest, slightly downward and in angle.” Stiles unfolded his arms and turned so he faced more toward Derek, unfolding his arms and extending his right arm, pointer and middle finger extended in the shape of a gun and held it out at the angle he’d described. Then he rotated a bit more so that he was pointing straight at Derek, pointing just below his chest because of their difference in height. “I can’t aim small so I go for mass. Very few people that it wouldn’t hit somewhere that would put them down enough.” Stiles dropped his hand back down to his side. “Then we drilled calling the clock. You know, calling out between one and twelve to tell me where I needed to turn to. He called, I turn, always fire twice to increase chances of hitting.”

“The last time you practiced, what was your hit rate?”

“Barely half on good days. I’d start getting disoriented the more turning I had to do and it freaked me out so I’d just miss the angles, fire too early thinking I’d hit it before I did.”

Derek thought he could work with that. “After each hit, does your angle reset?” He didn’t want to assume and set Stiles up for failure.

“Yeah, we tried calling multiples at a time but I just get lost faster. I might be able to now if I practiced a lot because my memory is a bit better than it was when I’d first been learning and I’m just better about being blind. But the person calling needs to be keeping up as much as me, too, and my dad did better with one at a time.”

Derek frowned, deciding if he should call Stiles out on how closed off he was and then stepped a bit closer to Stiles, reaching out to take his hand, holding it tightly. Stiles’ eyes lifted toward his face. “If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to. We can focus on improving your hand-to-hand combat. You’re pretty solid on it now, but there’s always something more you can learn there.” Stiles squeezed back on his hand. “We only do this if you want to.”

Stiles reached up with his free hand, touching it to Derek’s chest before using that as a guide to reach up behind Derek’s neck and pulled him forward to press their lips together. It only took about a second for Derek to get past the surprise of Stiles kissing him before he was pressing back, his other arm wrapping around Stiles’ waist to pull him against him, getting caught up faster than he would have expected. His tongue traced along Stiles’ lips and then Stiles opened his mouth to touch their tongues together briefly before he pulled away. He stayed close, both of them breathing a little faster than before.

“It is beyond sexy that you asked. Thanks, Derek,” Stiles said in a low voice that conveyed just how serious he was. “I need to have options. Scott’s right about me needing to rely on myself and not just you guys. I don’t doubt you, but Oni suck and they pull underhanded shit all the time. Besides, if it ever comes down to it, I can always tap into my core and see enough to get a shot in.”

Derek didn’t like the sound of that. “That’s as last resort as it gets, though. But you said your eyesight is blurry and sensitive to light?” Derek made that a question and Stiles nodded agreement. “If your vision was clear, maybe that would be a better option, but you’re almost as vulnerable with impaired vision as you are with no vision.”

Stiles let out a dry chuckle. “More vulnerable because it hurts like hell. Believe me, I’m not rushing toward that.”

“Alright, well then let’s get to work. I want to at least get an idea of where we’re starting before I check your hand-to-hand.”

“Oh, that’s easy,” Stiles declared as he stepped back and then followed his arm down to grab his hand. He let go of Derek’s other hand and clasped their right hands together. Then he grinned at Derek and held his thumb straight up. “One-two-three-four, I declare a thumb war.”

Derek couldn’t help but smile at that, taken by surprise as he was. “Stiles, you’re ridiculous.”

Stiles just grinned and shrugged as he let go of Derek’s hand. “Fun, isn’t it? Now, go get the targets set up while I check this thing. You didn’t bring different types of ammo, did you? Because that’s a concern I just don’t want to be neurotic about.”

“No, just normal rounds. Brought a couple boxes so we can get some good work in. There’s three clips in the bag, fifteen round magazines,” Derek instructed as he reached past Stiles to grab the paper targets out of the bag and headed toward the door that separated the range from the prep area they were in.

The shooting range was owned by the Devas but wasn’t in the same building as the office but a part of the training facilities. The range itself was designed so that many people could be firing in the same direction at the same time – like most shooting ranges – or they could remove the dividers and set targets throughout the room for training multi-directional firing for a single person, which Derek planned to work up to instead of jumping into, and all the walls were padded and reinforced to catch bullets. And he’d made sure that no one else had requested use of the range and there were no training programs that were currently scheduled to be working on firearms training. They would have privacy and he felt that was important right now.

He made his way around the room, pinning up targets, then put a few right next to each other across the room from the door so he could get a baseline. He made sure that they were all hanging down so the center was chest level, even with the level of Stiles’ pointing from a few moments ago.

He honestly hadn’t been expecting Sheriff Stilinski to have put that level of work into helping Stiles adapt being able to shoot to his blindness. He thought it would have been more of a passive thing. And now that Stiles had gone over what he’d been taught and practiced, he wondered if Stiles not necessarily succeeding at it before was a factor now, that he just didn’t want to fail some more.

Derek finished up and headed back toward the door. He opened it and then leaned against the frame as he watched Stiles loading one of the clips, obviously already having loaded at least one other by how accurately he was reaching out to the open box of bullets.

How would he be different if his core hadn’t scarred him like it did when it awoke? Or how would he be different if it wasn’t a Beholder core? How much of Stiles as he was now was because of his core and what it had done to him?

Derek smiled just a bit as he thought that it likely wasn’t as much as people might think. Stiles was a good person and that wasn’t something determined by his core.

He saw that Stiles was finishing up and he stood up straight. "There’s a belt in the bag with a holster and slots for the clips. You gonna lose the hoodie?” Derek finished jokingly; Stiles had a few hoodies brought by his dad that he rotated through, but he was always wearing one.

Stiles rolled his eyes and pulled the hoodie off, tossing it onto the table before he reached into the bag and searched for the belt. He pulled it out soon after and felt it out before he looped it around his waist and secured it just below the line of the belt he was already wearing. “Always preferred thigh holsters,” he said absently and Derek raised an eyebrow.

“Why?” he asked as Stiles felt his way around the corner of the table and walked toward Derek, having already walked around the room to get an idea of the floorplan.

“Because they’re sexy as hell and you know it,” Stiles responded with a grin and Derek rolled his eyes. Then there was a shift in Stiles’ tone that usually happened when he was being more serious, though Derek didn’t doubt that what he’d stated already was a legitimate answer. “Something about a thigh holster sends a different message. People just seem to get more intimidated when your gun is guaranteed to be showing unless you’re wearing a duster or something like that.”

“You like it because it’s intimidating?” Derek asked, amused.

“Why else do people wear a gun when they aren’t cops? They can call it whatever they want, but it all comes down to making a statement to people that they shouldn’t be fucked with, that they’re more dangerous than you. But then they end up being the most freaked out people in an emergency with very few exceptions.”

The Sheriff had done a good job instilling respect for the weapon into Stiles, Derek noted. Because while some people not familiar with him would have only heard his light tone, Derek knew him well enough to pick up on the somber tinges to his mood. Stiles knew where the danger of a gun really was and he respected the weapon for what it was.

“Yeah, well, that’s part of the reason so few Devas carry. We hammer it in pretty deep that pulling the trigger is the easy part. We’re just lucky that so many of us have dispositions that mean we don’t have to resort to carrying. We are strong offensively and have enough that can seal cores that we can operate smoothly. Not all divisions have the balance to allow that to be the case.”

“How does less people applying to be Devas affect that?”

Derek wasn’t surprised Stiles knew; he spent too much time looking up everything under the sun to not have come across data that showed that not as many users were even wanting to become Devas. It was across the board, though, as there were also less applicants to the U.E.A. The world they lived in, how connected it was, meant that people were more informed of what it was like to face Oni. They knew it was just about the most dangerous thing in the world and it wasn’t something everyone was capable of.

He supposed they were lucky that people didn’t cause more fuss about the Devas, U.E.A., and Protection of the Paladins Organization being run by their own authority figures. If everyone suddenly decided that they had to be run by the same people in charge of human law enforcement, things would go downhill fast. He guessed people were somewhat aware of that.

“Can’t say for sure,” Derek answered and Stiles nodded as he stepped past Derek and into the shooting range, Derek closing the door behind him. “Your ear protection?” he prompted, noticing Stiles didn’t have the plugs in.

“Give me a sec. I need to get a feel for the room before I can’t hear straight.” He scuffed his shoe against the floor twice then asked, “Carpet?”

“Yeah. Cuts down on the echo.”

“Ceiling lined?”

“Yeah.”

“Alrighty then!” Stiles suddenly yelled and Derek barely managed to keep from startling. Stiles immediately got very still, even holding his breath, for a few seconds and then stepped a bit further into the room. “Damn, that’s good insulation. I can’t tell.”

“Currently twenty by fifty. There’s removeable walls set up right now,” Derek was getting used to providing those sorts of details to Stiles.

“Then, let’s get started,” Stiles declared, rubbing his hands together before he reached into his pocket and pulled out his ear plugs, slipping them in. He then snapped his fingers as his hands moved away from his ears and it took Derek a second to realize that Stiles was checking how different sound was with them in.

Derek stepped up behind Stiles and put his hand on his shoulder, guiding him forward toward the middle of the room. He kept his hand there as Stiles reached the position and explained, “I lined up the targets with the level you showed me you aim at. But first clip all goes into a target directly in front you.”

“Can the blind guy group his shots?” Stiles asked with a smirk as his stance shifted and Derek felt a change come over Stiles to the point that he was tempted to come forward enough to see Stiles’ face to make sure his eyes weren’t dilating. It just felt so intense and he hadn’t been expecting that.

Then in a smooth motion that was so much muscle memory, Stiles reached down and drew the gun, Derek hearing the click of the safety, brought it to his centerline, and then rose it up and out, his left hand folding over the fingers of his right as he extended, settling into place so both arms were held straight out in front of him. There was about a second’s pause and then Stiles was firing, his timing smooth and measured so each individual round fired was a complete motion that led into the next one. Fifteen rounds fired and then a sixteenth pull of the trigger to open the ejector port, ensuring it was empty, and Stiles brought back the gun and lowered it down along his center again to the line of his belt before bringing it back to the side and holstering it.

Derek’s eyes were glued to Stiles and it took him a few seconds to shake off his awe. “That was simultaneously fascinating and terrifying,” he managed to say in an even tone. He didn’t even want to think about how many hours went into getting that smooth.

“You forgot hot as shit,” Stiles groused as he crossed his arms and Derek gave a noncommittal hum in response.

Then he looked at the target, releasing some of the control he had over his senses so his eyes could see clearly even at this distance, to see the results and he thought he was glad he’d already spoken.

He counted fifteen holes, all but two within a few inch radius. And while they were all to the right of the center of the target, they were still all hits.

He knew plenty of people who could see who couldn’t group like that. So what if he’d pointed Stiles in the correct direction, told him exactly where the target was, and told him to shoot? People usually had their own eyes to do that much. Grouping like that came from pretty much everything but aim. It was in the position of the body, the relaxation of the hands and fingers, how he handled the kickback.

Sheriff Stilinski had been a good teacher.

This might actually work out better than Derek had anticipated. Even if him calling directions right now was a grand failure, they could figure that part out. This was the foundation they had to work from and it was strong.

“Derek?” Stiles called to him suddenly and he realized he’d been silent for some time. He shook off his distraction and took a step away from Stiles.

“Alright. Let’s see how well this works out. I’ll call one at a time. The direction you’re facing every call is twelve. You hear how close I am so I won’t be in your way and I’m going to kneel down so I’m out of the line of fire as long as you maintain your firing position.” He kneeled down as he was speaking so Stiles would hear the change in where his voice was coming from. “Any problems with this setup?” he figured he should ask.

Stiles drew the gun and ejected the empty clip as he reached around his left hip to grab a second one and slid it in smoothly, releasing the catch to load the chamber. “No, no problems. Just make sure you growl loudly or I’ll miss it. Between the plugs, the gunfire, and paying attention to about five thousand different things, I can forget to actually listen.”

“So it’s like any other day of the week,” Derek shot back and was relieved to see Stiles smile.

They got to work.

They worked through two boxes of ammo, Derek gradually increasing the variety of target locations.

They had a lot of work to do, Stiles’ estimation of about fifty percent hit rate being a little higher than what he could do now, likely from lack of practice.

They needed to figure out a way to get it much higher if it was going to be of any use for Stiles to rely on it.


	10. Blind Details

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lydia sees something...

“Seven.” _Bang._ Hit. “Three.” _Bang._ Hit. “Strafe left. Six.” _Bang._ Hit, but barely. “Step forward. Seven.” _Bang._ Hit. “Two. Three. Five.” _Bang. Bang. Bang._ Hit. Miss. Hit. “Kneel. Six. Six.” _Bang. Bang._ Miss. Hit. “Three. Two. Stand. Six. Strafe right. Seven.” _Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang._ Hit. Hit. Hit. Miss. “Four. Five.” _Bang. Bang._ Hit. Hit. “Ten.” _Click._

Derek gave a few seconds for Stiles to secure the gun in its holster before he stood up. That had gone well, he thought as he allowed a small smile, feeling a rush of pride toward Stiles for making such progress in the ten days or so since they started training.

Because that’s exactly what it was. Two hours every day they were at the office was committed to training Stiles: one hour was with Derek shooting, the other hour was hand-to-hand with whoever felt like getting thrown around that day between Scott, Boyd, Derek, and Kira. And once Erica was finished with a last-minute assignment Derek had needed to give her before he brought her onboard with the protection detail, she could be another one for Stiles to work with.

Derek was looking forward to seeing what she would put Stiles through: she was vicious when allowed.

And Derek knew Stiles trained more than that while Derek was working, it providing him with another way to keep occupied through the day.

He stepped up to Stiles and reached out to squeeze his elbow, Stiles throwing a grin over his shoulder. “Don’t leave me hanging here. How’d I do?” he asked, sounding excited.

“Four misses. Well, three but a fourth is on the outside line so it’s officially a hit.”

“Nah, let’s call it what it is. It was the strafes, wasn’t it?” Stiles replied with a heavy sigh.

“Yeah, but the first one was the one on the line.”

“Shit, I’m just not getting that adjustment.”

Derek reached up and grasped the back of Stiles’ neck, squeezing a little before letting his hand rest on his shoulder. “You’re doing better on the consecutive calls. Better on shooting from kneeling as well. Second shot on that one was a hit.” They’d only been working on that for a few days: Stiles learning the angle for his arms to be at so he’d be aiming at the same spot whether he was standing or kneeling. Today was the first hit he’d gotten when running the full drill like this.

“Yeah, well I’m still freaked out I’m gonna shoot you when I do that.”

“Just don’t shoot if I call a twelve when you’re kneeling.” He hesitated before adding, “Probably shouldn’t for an eleven or one either. A foot beyond your reach isn’t _that_ much distance.”

It was what they’d come up with to keep Stiles from getting lost, and Derek for that matter. Because when Stiles reset his angles for every call, Derek would have to adjust to the change and it would slow down his calls. And Stiles had nothing to orient himself to his starting direction to keep that as twelve. So, Derek’s position was twelve. He was the point for Stiles to focus on. He determined his angle from Derek’s position.

It had taken a few days for them to work out the kinks of it, but it was an immediate improvement on Stiles’ ability to hit the correct angle.

It had been Boyd’s idea, ultimately. He’d made a remark that Stiles always seemed to know where Derek was and that had been enough to get Stiles’ mind working.

“Aw, listen to you being all encouraging and supportive. Such a sweet little Sourwolf you are,” Stiles said as he straightened up to smack a kiss to Derek’s cheek.

“Is it wrong that I want to smack you upside the back of the head so often?”

He got a wide, unapologetic grin for that. “You kidding? That’s like a level up in a relationship with me. Bonus round gets activated when I make you want to do it twice for the same thing.”

“Explain to me again how you are the son of a Sheriff when you’re standing here encouraging an abusive relationship.”

Stiles pointed at him, Derek having to lean back a bit as Stiles misjudged the distance and nearly poked him on the chin. “I would never encourage an abusive relationship and you are a heathen for thinking that. I am merely making a statement which encompasses the natural human response to dealing with me. It tends to be that some level of violence is desired so that just means it must be the natural order of things.”

Derek rolled his eyes as he stepped away toward the door. “You can stop at any time now.”

“Can I? I mean can I truly?”

“I’m actually pretty certain by now that despite everything you can do, shutting up at reasonable times is not something you are capable of.”

Stiles gasped dramatically and Derek felt a hand touch his back briefly before arms wrapped tightly around his neck and he was suddenly holding all of Stiles’ weight, nearly making him fall backward because he didn’t expect it. But then he just stood there, crossed his arms, and let Stiles hang off him as he cheered, “He gets me! He really, really gets me! I’m just the happiest, average-sized guy in this room right now. I mean, he even let me glomp him. I totally expected to hit the floor just now.”

“Glomp?” Derek growled out, playing up just the touch of irritation from getting jumped on. Just because he could hold Stiles like this easily didn’t mean he was fond of being made to.

“Uncultured swine,” Stiles accused instead of answering and slid down Derek’s back so he was standing again. But with his arms still around Derek’s neck, he pulled back and Derek leaned back with the motion, letting Stiles drop another playful kiss to his cheek.

Derek rolled his eyes again and walked the last bit of distance to the door with Stiles right behind him. He opened the door and stepped out to see quite a few people that he hadn’t been expecting to see. Boyd, Scott, and Kira were there, which wasn’t uncommon. There were cameras set up in the range and sometimes they came in to watch Stiles work. But with them was also Chris Argent and Lydia Martin. While seeing Chris in a facility he oversaw wasn’t necessarily strange, Derek had only talked with him a few days ago – the man calling him to ask for an update on all assignments instead of just letting him email them like usual – and he hadn’t indicated that he was going to be stopping by.

It was Lydia being there that really confused him. Stiles talked to her every other day over the phone and was constantly texting her, but he hadn’t actually met with her for over two weeks. She had her own work and Stiles had to coordinate his time with his protection detail, but it was still the longest they’d gone without meeting up since he’d been freed.

Stiles bumped into his back and he realized that he’d stopped walking without warning Stiles.

“Would you warn a guy?” Stiles declared as he grabbed onto Derek’s shirt to make sure he didn’t lose his balance. They hadn’t been walking fast and it hadn’t been a rough collision, but Stiles was impressively talented in tripping over nothing.

Keeping his eyes on the others gathered, he said, “Boyd, Scott, Kira, Argent, and Lydia are here.”

He felt Stiles tense behind him before he collected himself and stepped out around Derek so he could be seen clearly.

Never let it be said that Stiles took the easy way out.

Chris stepped forward and while Derek knew that this man wasn’t a threat – both from knowing him and also because nothing in his motion caught the attention of any of Derek’s defensive instincts – he still felt himself tense like he was getting ready for a fight.

That was strange.

“Hale, I need to talk to you for a minute,” Chris demanded and Derek raised a curious eyebrow. The Deva Master was intense and he wasn’t looking to possess too much patience at the moment.

Derek looked to Stiles, about to ask him if he was alright with that but hesitated when he saw the thoughtful look on Stiles’ face. He was trying to figure something out. “Stiles?” he simply asked instead.

“Something’s up with Lydia. She’s…I don’t know, anxious. She doesn’t get anxious, not anymore.” It was likely their affinity making Stiles aware of that. Derek wasn’t sure what sort of awareness they had of each other beyond how their dispositions seemed to “see better” concerning the other. It didn’t seem to match up to the nature of the abilities for them to have any sort of knowledge of emotions or harm like some affinities created, but affinities didn’t always make sense, being connected to emotion as they were. “I think we’re really on the clock right now. See what Argent knows.”

Derek stepped forward and turned around so he was facing away from the others, trying to keep this as much between the two of them as possible. “Would she have told him?”

“She might have if she thought it was the right thing to do. There’s worse things than a few more people on this side of user law knowing the truth, Derek.”

Knowing that and agreeing with it were two very different things and Derek didn’t agree. Argent knowing was a very large step toward it going on Stiles’ official record that he was a Beholder. Many more people had access to that.

“Right, well, I’ll see what he knows. You should probably get Lydia’s side of things.”

Derek turned and walked away from Stiles, hearing the man follow him for a few steps before he turned right to head toward the table where they kept all their gear. As he approached, Lydia walked past Chris and headed for Stiles, her strides purposeful but she avoided making eye contact with Derek. When he got close, the Devas and Kira moved further away from Stiles and Lydia, Derek following them to the far side of the room where they finally all gathered in a tight circle so they could speak in low tones and not be heard.

Derek crossed his arms and ask, “What’s this about, Chris?”

“Miss Martin came to speak with me a few hours ago. Were you aware they had an affinity?” Chris asked, his tone even and unreadable.

“Yeah, Stiles told me a while ago,” Derek didn’t see any harm in saying. There was no requirement for civilians affiliated with the Devas to report or document affinities. It was a private detail that simply was only people’s business if the individual chose to reveal it.

“And what of any affinity between the two of you?” Chris asked and while Derek wasn’t exactly surprised that he’d been asked, he did feel a little flustered for having to answer.

He wasn’t a civilian and he _did_ have requirements he had to follow when it came to affinities.

“No affinity has formed between us,” he admitted, then added, “Lydia is the only person Stiles has an affinity with.”

Chris crossed his arms. “As much as you two are around each other, some connection should have formed. Don’t you think it’s strange that it hasn’t?”

“Yes, it’s a bit strange,” Derek replied in a low voice. He really didn’t want to talk about this. “But when I’ve focused to check on it, I feel my core reaching for him and his core accepting and my core accepting his reaching to me as well. It just hasn’t been enough for the connection to solidify into an affinity.” Derek frowned and then asked, his tone suspicious, “Why are you so concerned about an affinity having formed between Stiles and I? Unless you’re looking for a reason to allow him to stay here…”

“Not necessarily,” was the vague answer and Derek growled.

Why were his responses to everyone seeming so aggressive? He didn’t do shit like that with his allies.

Boyd stepped between Derek and Chris, making sure he had Derek’s attention. “Lydia said we’re getting close to death. She can’t lock on to who it is, though and says that her affinity with Stiles is keeping her from figuring it out. That means it’s likely someone connected closely with Stiles. At least, that’s what she thinks.”

“Stiles said their affinity helps them see clearer if it’s something about each other, not inhibit it,” Derek said before he realized that it revealed too much if they were paying any attention to what he had said. After all, it was one thing to tell Argent that he knew more than he was telling, but anything more and he might not let Derek stay silent.

But even as the Deva Master’s eyes narrowed, he simply said, “Regardless of what their affinity has been in the past, Miss Martin says that it is the reason she can’t put together any more details about who is at risk. It has to be one of you assigned to his protection detail since you are the only ones close to him.”

“What about his dad?” Scott asked suddenly, sounding a bit panicked and Derek didn’t blame him. Sheriff Stilinski, despite being in a position of authority in law enforcement, was vulnerable against an Oni simply because he was just a human.

“I have already informed Erica that she is to head to Beacon Hills and make sure he stays safe. Boyd told me you were planning on adding her to the protection detail so it’s not bringing anyone in on this that doesn’t need to know.”

Discretion even between Devas of the same division? Chris was worried. That or Lydia had told him about Stiles’ disposition and he was looking to continue keeping it quiet.

“Fuck no!” Stiles suddenly exclaimed from across the room and Derek turned quickly to make sure everything was alright almost before he could determine that to be necessary. Lydia grabbed onto Stiles’ arm and pulled on him with a harsh whisper that Derek couldn’t hear. If he hadn’t had tight control over his hearing because they’d been shooting, he could have heard it but now he wanted to let Stiles handle things on his end while Derek figured things out over here so he didn’t release his tight control so he could listen in on their side of things.

“Despite her inability to narrow down her senses further, she is certain that it will be soon,” Boyd tried to keep them on track and Derek turned back toward his friend.

“She’s only strong enough to see about a day out, right?” Kira asked.

“That would be helpful at least. But we can’t be too sure when their affinity is concerned: it bypasses a pretty good deal of their limitations.” That shouldn’t be enough to reveal Stiles’ disposition. It also wasn’t necessarily rare for an affinity to cause that so it wasn’t putting any more undue attention on either him or Lydia.

Derek looked over his shoulder again and watched Lydia speak quietly and insistently to Stiles, taking a moment to really observe her. She was scared, Derek determined. Yes, Stiles had already commented on how she seemed anxious, but now that Derek was really looking at her, he saw so much more than mere anxiety. Lydia was a headstrong person, to put things lightly. She worked hard at everything she did and always seemed to leave everyone behind. For her to not be able to give them what they needed to know right now when they really needed her to be precise must be tearing at her.

And Stiles was still angry. Derek could tell that he was trying to keep from listening to Lydia, which seemed to make her all the more determined to make him hear her out.

Derek actually thought about how he felt about the whole thing. Lydia, who his division had worked with plenty of times now, had felt that someone connected to Stiles was close to death. Because it was connected to Stiles, there was no telling if her usual limitations applied. And it didn’t actually mean that it was because of an Oni. It could just be bad luck, something natural. There were just so many possibilities.

But weren’t the Devas meant to handle the possibilities? All Devas were required to complete six months of intense training and easily seventy percent of that was scenario training, the rest split being learning precise control over their cores, gaining an understanding of how the organization worked and where it stood with other law enforcement, and rounding out with combat training. And when Derek had advanced to a Deva Senior and he’d spent another couple hundred hours working even more scenarios. Facing against simulations of an Oni of every disposition, even if it was just with the most common abilities, so it would be that much harder for them to face something new.

They were Devas. And Kira was a U.E.A. agent, whose training was approaching the thoroughness of the Devas, perhaps matching it in some ways as they had to train Chimeras and all were required to pass a higher amount of combat training since they handled more of the day-to-day disputes with cores that Devas just didn’t see.

Derek turned back to face Chris, resolved instead of defensive. “So, what exactly were you planning to do with this information?” Chris looked at him with a mix of confusion and frustration. “What does it matter that there is some measure of confirmed danger to us in the near future? Aren’t we supposed to be prepared for anything, to handle any assignment without letting uncertainty get in the way of our training and abilities? We aren’t trained to be careful; we’re trained to be prepared.”

Chris was looking more irritated now and even Boyd didn’t look like he was completely behind Derek on this. “You are also trained to recognize ego and how hazardous it is to allow it to rule your decisions. It’s been a long time since you failed an assignment and I’m wondering if that’s what’s making this argument rather than reason.”

“It’s not ego.” Honestly, it had been so long since Derek felt anything akin to ego that he was pretty sure it wasn’t something he’d be able to pull off: he had too many mistakes in his past to lose his humility. “You should know better than to accuse any of us of that. You should also know better than to think that we can’t handle something just because we get uncertain information from a Reaper. No Reaper is infallible, not even Lydia. Yes, she’s good, but she’s not immune to making the same mistakes any other Reaper does.”

“We try to maintain good relations with Reapers for a reason, Hale. Every life we save is one less person dragged down by the ambition of the Oni.”

“You’re missing the point. No Reaper can be perfectly accurate in calling someone’s death. They don’t see past resuscitation. If someone receives what would be a fatal injury if not treated but they do receive that treatment, most Reapers will still feel death on them. Hell, Lydia has made that mistake with one of the Devas serving in my division. There is no such thing as a set future, not even with death, so why should we act like her feeling death for someone close to Stiles is a set occurrence and react like civilians instead of responding like fucking Devas!”

He finished with a raised voice and in his emotion he could feel himself tapping into more of his core, his vocal chords thickening and finishing with a growl.

Was he losing control? If so, why?

“And what if Stiles is the one who is about to die?” Chris responded after a short pause, which Derek used to take in a deep breath. And even with how strongly he suspected that Chris had worded his question like that to get a rise out of him but, he actually felt calmer hearing it. Almost like some part of him knew more than his brain.

Either way, his voice was completely relaxed when he replied. “I will protect Stiles. I don’t care what anyone else says, I know how I feel about him and I know that I will do everything, give anything, to make sure he stays safe. And I don’t require any of my team to do the same, but simply request they do what they think is right, like Devas should.”

Chris seemed surprised at his words and Derek wondered if the Master had spent too much time away from assignments, away from the Devas he was responsible for, that maybe he’d lost some measure of understanding what they were capable of. It wasn’t an unreasonable possibility and it happened sometimes, even to Devas whose dispositions meant they didn’t see the field often.

“You can’t make a promise like that,” the Master declared in a low, even voice.

“Yes I can. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep Oni hands off of him.” He let out a heavy sigh and he heard how some of the stress of the danger to Stiles came out in the sound. “I’ll help him get what he deserves in life.”

“And that would be?”

“Whatever he wants. I don’t get to choose.” He paused before giving Chris an amused look. “You try telling him what to do, I dare you. See what happens.”

Chris glanced over Derek’s shoulder toward Stiles and Derek got the feeling even the short interaction they’d had nearly two weeks ago was enough for him to know just how ridiculous of a concept that was.

“You guys can stop acting like this is a huge deal already,” Stiles said from behind Derek, walking up to the small group and stopping a few feet away with Lydia just behind him. She didn’t look much better, though Derek was pretty sure there was something like guilt in her expression now.

That protective instinct he’d been fighting and that had been starting to pass was surging forward again.

Scott stepped up next to Derek and gave Stiles what he considered a glare. All things considered, it wasn’t that good of one. “Stiles, it sort of is a big deal. We can’t just ignore this warning. That would just be sort of stupid.”

“Then it’s a good thing that’s not what I’m suggesting we do.”

Derek got the feeling he was about to need to attempt talking Stiles out of doing something incredibly stupid with the way his instincts were screaming at him.

“It’s just a matter of controlling the outcome.”

“We can’t do that when we don’t know the target,” Kira said smoothly. “And Lydia has stated that she can’t determine who is in danger.”

Stiles grinned and shoved his hands into his pants pockets. “Well, sure, Lydia can’t. She’s not the target. And if the Oni were gonna use the people I’m close to against me, I feel like they already would have gone for that approach.”

Kira continued to be the voice of reason and Derek appreciated her taking the lead on this so far. He figured if he said anything right now, it would be a growl considering how certain he was that he’d figured out where Stiles was going with this. “But any threat to you wouldn’t be from the Oni you’re familiar with. He’s dead. There’s been an increase in the appeal of Oni killing people they can’t acquire. It’s becoming as much of a show of power as stealing cores and doesn’t require finding an Ouroboros.”

“I’m aware. Users earning ‘Oni’ because of murder has gone up, what, thirty-seven percent in the past five years?”

“Easily. There’s no guarantee that the target on you hasn’t changed simply because you got away, let alone being the one responsible for your captor’s death.”

“Oh, like they care when one of them goes dead except _maybe_ if they were working together. They’re not exactly known for their loyalty.”

“Cases of Oni working in complete collaboration with each other is also on the rise, Mr. Stilinski,” Chris stated, almost sounding like he was talking down to Stiles, which Derek figured was the first mistake he made in this conversation. “I’m surprised you haven’t found a way to know that. We’re seeing more genuine alliances now than we ever have before.”

“Well, yeah, when Oni can make and use evil chat rooms to work out their differences, you know, find their perfect match, properly romance each other before going after the core of their dreams, of course you’re gonna see them getting along more. What are there, two dispositions that interfere with electronics? So, what’s keeping them from using all the same fancy shit you Devas and U.E.A. agents use to be all buddy-buddy?

“Anyway, we’re getting off track and for _me_ to say that, it’s gotta stop. So what we’re gonna do is let them have an opportunity to make a grab at me. But it can’t be something obvious like whoever on duty goes to the bathroom or something while we’re out. The last thing we wanna do is assume they’re that stupid. We need to assume they’re the Albert Einstein of Stephen Hawking of tactics and we gotta sell that they have a shot. Because there has to be more than one with eyes on me.”

“Why?” Kira asked.

“Because of these guys,” Stiles indicated to Derek and Scott, or at least got close enough that they all knew what he meant. “If they were picking up the same scent following us around, they’d notice we were being followed. And if you weren’t paying attention to that, then I have lost all faith in you anyway and am better off on my own.”

Derek just rolled his eyes: Stiles knew how much attention he paid to his scent and hearing when they were in public and Scott may be a bit flaky sometimes, but he was good with his disposition and good at his job _and_ he cared about Stiles so he was more inclined to want to do things right.

“As long as they have a few people to switch between, there wouldn’t be one or two scents that those sniffers would start to get suspicious of smelling.”

How much had Stiles been thinking about this? He only _just_ found out about it with the rest of them.

“So how do you expect to trick these guys?” Scott questioned.

“Easy. Send me home. There’s obviously no reason for me to remain in Deva protection because if Oni were still after me, they’d have done something by now and you can’t have Devas wasting their precious time guarding little old me who has a visually based disposition and burned out ocular nerves. Total waste of manpower and resources, right?”

It took Derek a few seconds to realize that his throat was rumbling in an audible growl. He’d accept it if Stiles wanted to leave him, but he wasn’t going to accept Stiles turning himself into bait.

Stiles’ expression changed, frowning a little before he looked excited. “Did I seriously get Derek to growl?”

“Yes,” Scott betrayed Derek by playing along and Stiles rose a fist in victory.

“About damn time. I’ve only been trying to get him to make that sound for like the past week. I thought I heard him do it a while ago and wanted to make sure, But the guy is such a stickler when it comes to making all those sexy noises.”

Derek was tempted to growl for a completely different reason as he felt his face heat up, his anger passing just a bit. Stiles was being very unfair about this, using those in the room’s varied unfamiliarity with him to keep them involved in a way that prevented Derek from getting too upset. Once he started getting worked up, someone else was saying something that he’d have to focus on, his responsibility taking charge enough to mitigate the short temper he was working with that day.

It would only work for so long, though, Stiles had to know.

“I appreciate your willingness to take such a risk, but I won’t organize or approve that. And if I found you try to do it anyway, I’d have you detained to a safe house under guard of an impartial Deva, someone who hasn’t gotten to know you.” Chris’ breakdown of his answer for once helped Derek calm down just a little. He’d accept restricting Stiles if it meant he stayed safe.

He almost wished he was alone right now so he could berate himself accordingly for allowing that thought.

“Well, I could always just leave anyway,” Stiles declared though his tone was starting to falter a little, losing the easy-going confidence he’d held so far. Maybe he didn’t like that he’d made that point, or just hadn’t wanted to.

“What do you mean?” Scott asked, sounding hurt.

“I’m not suspected of Oni activity. I’m not being detained, by you or any other law enforcement. I’m under no obligation to stay here under your protection. That’s the cool part of protective custody, no matter who’s doing it: it’s completely voluntary. I can just choose that I don’t need your help anymore and bail.”

“Would you do that?”

Stiles shrugged. “Maybe. If it got things done. It’s nothing against you guys; you guys are awesome. But I want this over with. I’d like to get back to a normal life if that’s all the same to you and that’s not gonna happen as long as there’s someone out there who has any idea why I was given a target. We know about at least one Oni who knew about me and there’s plenty to make me think he’s been recruiting.”

“He can be recruiting without revealing anything. We’ve seen plenty of Oni act as hired hands who don’t care about increasing their own power but are just looking for a paycheck. They don’t care past that,” Boyd commented.

“I’m all for that. Less for me to actually be concerned about.” Stiles lifted his eyes, directing them toward where Chris was standing, getting pretty close to actually being correct in placing him exactly, and that seemed to get the Master’s attention. “You need the availability of your Devas back. I need this asshole off my ass. You aren’t Devas because you play it safe. You’re Devas because you do what’s right. And you don’t worry about showing off to the masses as being some massive military force, which would fail anyway because you basically exist on a perpetual graveyard shift.” Chris let out a heavy sigh and pinched at the bridge of his nose.

Way to try and appeal to someone, Derek thought sardonically: point out the weaknesses of the organization they held authority in and deeply believed in. Though, it wasn’t the worst approach, Derek admitted, because it wasn’t one Chris would have likely expected from Stiles. He didn’t really know him beyond reports so he didn’t know just how smart Stiles was. The one meeting they’d had wouldn’t have been enough for him to pick that up, not when it still surprised Derek plenty of times.

“Let me get this straight: you’re threatening to leave if I don’t allow you to act as bait?” Chris said, now sounding condescending and that would only piss Stiles off all the more.

And Stiles did have a flash of frustration cross his expression, but it passed quickly and he just grinned at Chris. “Basically. And that you aren’t picking up on the significance there is pretty astounding, you being grand-daddy-Deva and all. Geez, know your people.”

Apparently, Stiles knew the people who had been guarding him as well as Derek did. It was a given that Derek wouldn’t just let him go home unprotected and would follow him. He just knew the Oni would make another move for Stiles even if he couldn’t explain how he was so certain. But Derek would have suspected Scott – definitely – would do the same thing without any second thoughts to his job. He was altruistic like that, if not a little absentminded in execution. Boyd would have handled it the best out of them, found a way to work it to his advantage and not make it look like he was breaking any orders. And Kira simply wasn’t bound by any decision made by a Master Deva. She had the most freedom concerning this than any of them. She could actually just put in for Stiles to receive protective custody from the U.E.A. and it would likely go through.

Stiles was a good person, regardless of his tendency to be an asshole. They all agreed that making sure he was alright was more important than their official jobs. Derek didn’t have to ask them to figure that much out.

That, or Stiles had cheated and asked Lydia. Either was just as likely to be the case.

The thing was, them being willing to do something like go against orders to make sure someone stayed safe wasn’t something that would be unique to them. Caring for others was an integral part of most Devas. If they didn’t _want_ people to be safe, they weren’t allowed to be Devas. It had too often led to decisions that they’d have to defend later, ones they’d regret. It was one of the biggest changes made to the requirements for applicants to pass their initial and then annual psych evals.

And Chris seemed to be making those connections.

He let out a heavy sigh and scratched at the back of his head in frustration. He then crossed his arms and Derek felt the shift in his demeanor that was more familiar: this was the man who had one of the strongest reputations on this side of the country as a Deva.

“Fine, you want to play bait, you can play bait. It’s not my place to get in the way of civilian stupidity. I’m officially pulling all Devas assigned to your protection. If I were you, I’d work out transportation to get back home; I don’t have the Devas to spare on an escort. Hell, I’ve got to cover three of the Devas in this division putting in for leave for the next week. Didn’t have a reason to tell them no. They’ve been working long enough to have earned the time. But I can’t give them more than a week and keep up with everything.”

Derek had been getting ready to fight – verbally or physically, he wasn’t actually sure – when he realized what Chris was doing. He had to make an official decision. And he’d get back to his office and put that decision on the record.

But then Derek wasn’t sure where that left them. Yes, Chris had basically just said they had his permission to act on their own in this, but did that mean they were completely acting as civilians? Civilians weren’t allowed to seal cores without a consultation or medical license – which Devas weren’t given because their status as Devas covered it as long as they were on duty – and the extent someone could act in self-defense could be called excessive if it was determined they weren’t in mortal danger. If Chris’ official position meant they were acting as civilians, they were bound by these laws and would have to answer for anything they did as civilians.

Chris stepped past Derek, heading for the door, looking over at him with his piercing blue eyes for a few seconds before he let out a sigh and shook his head with a chuckle. “Consider yourself on-call. Wouldn’t want to risk you giving me more paperwork because of what you decide to do with your leave.” He took a step closer to Derek, standing right in front of him. “This isn’t a threat, but your success rate with missions and your reputation aren’t going to hold out for much longer. If anything happens to any of you because of this, I’ll have to find some way to explain my decision. If what I come up with isn’t enough, I’ll likely lose my position. And I doubt you want to have to break in a new Master to your style.”

Derek rose an eyebrow at that. “Nice of you to think that I’d still hold my position when you lost yours, I guess.”

“You’re really underestimating the allowances given when there’s an affinity involved.”

“Stiles and I haven’t formed an affinity yet.”

Chris smirked at him then. “And yet so confident that one will form.” He got more serious then. “Affinities are more determined by the person than the core than people assume. You haven’t had an affinity for a long time, you’ve only had affinities with family, you have a traumatic experience in your past that makes it difficult for you to trust people, and the one your core is attempting to connect with is as conflicted. What part of this makes you think it’d form easily?”

Derek was unbelievably uncomfortable being given such a rundown on his “issues” from _Chris Argent_ of all people. Since when did that guy know enough about him to make those kinds of statements, let alone have them be true?

What’s more, the way he said it felt like he was trying to help and the guy had always been so distant from Derek that he never would have figured the guy to care enough. Instincts of a Valkyrie core only went so far in looking out for others and it usually stopped being a factor when the user didn’t like someone personally.

Not that Chris had ever told him he didn’t like him or anything of that nature. Derek had assumed because of how they interacted with each other. Though, he guessed not liking someone personally could mean nothing when it came to professionally interacting with them.

Not like he’d ever _ask_ the man for clarification. Maybe something would happen to give him an answer but it didn’t make enough of a difference to his responsibilities to ask so he wouldn’t.

Chris stepped away and glanced around to the other Devas. “Don’t be strangers just because you’re off duty. Just don’t make it be over emails. I have a phone for a reason.”

Translation: check in like they would if they were on official assignment, just don’t make it through any way that would be documented.

Chris left then, giving Stiles one last severe look. Not harsh or angry or anything like that, just a close observation and Stiles seemed to at least be aware of the look because he started shifting his weight between his feet.

But once Chris was gone, Derek looked between everyone still there, settling on Lydia as he tried to figure out what she was going to do in this. She hadn’t quite recovered her usual demeanor and he was getting more curious as to what she had asked Stiles to do to come out of it so deflated. Though when she noticed he was looking, she seemed to collect herself some and stood a little taller.

“It’s been a while since I visited Beacon Hills. I’m due,” she declared and Derek just barely managed to keep from putting forward an argument against her. He really couldn’t tell her what to do, not when he was acting outside of the Devas. She had as much freedom in this as Kira did, Kira only restricted by whether or not she got permission from her own superiors. Lydia’s restrictions came from her status as a civilian.

Speaking of Kira, he turned around and looked her way with a questioning rise of his eyebrow. She gave him a kind smile. “Like you even have to ask. I’ve already been given permission to give Stiles priority of my time; it doesn’t matter where that happens or his status with the Devas.”

“So I guess I’ll get in touch with Erica and tell her to expect us,” Boyd said with a slight grin.

“Just don’t let her tell my dad,” Stiles said before Derek could agree. “You know, just in case this works better than I give it credit for and we don’t make it all the way. I don’t want him worrying himself into an ulcer over this.” Derek caught the scent of genuine panic just as Stiles rounded on Lydia, turning past where she was and looking about a foot to her left. He must really have been distracted to be that off, especially with the work he and Derek had been doing having improved his general ability to pick out someone’s location more accurately, likely from drilling a skill of nailing angles without seeing them.

And Stiles liked directing his eyes toward who he was talking to, seeming to want to feel like there was a connection even if he couldn’t make eye contact and it seemed to help the people he talked to.

“It’s not him, is it? I mean, I’m not physically close to him but he’s my dad. It could be him, right? Is it him?” The words flooded out of his mouth and Lydia took a step back at the rush. Derek stepped forward and put his hand on Stiles’ shoulder, Stiles tensing a little at the touch, likely from surprise at missing sounds of Derek moving. Derek slid his hand down to take Stiles’, intertwining their fingers smoothly and stepping in close to him.

“I’m pretty sure it isn’t him. I mean, I’ve known your dad for a long time so I have a feel for him on his own and it doesn’t feel like he’s connected. I think it’s someone here in danger. It’s alright, Stiles.” Lydia answered, her voice becoming stronger and more confident as she spoke, like she was taking the chance to collect herself like she hadn’t been able to since Derek had seen her today.

It took a few deep breaths from Stiles for him to relax, though. His heart was still racing and he seemed distant like hadn’t been before.

Derek squeezed his hand carefully, aware that he was already holding pretty tightly and he didn’t want to grab tighter than Stiles could handle; Derek’s control was in question right now for whatever reason and he didn’t trust his self-awareness concerning anything to do with his core.

“We’ll work out the trip before heading out, get in a little extra training to cover up us being here longer than usual in case we’re being watched now,” he declared, looking between the Devas and agent. “I mean it: this is completely optional for everyone. If you don’t want the time off the books, head back.

No one left.

After nearly three weeks of nothing, things were finally moving forward and Derek felt the familiar rush of anticipation like he got with every assignment he took on. The strength in the fear of failure was a little stronger than usual and his eyes fell on Stiles, aware of why.

He couldn’t let _this_ be the assignment he fucked up on or he’d likely never get over it.


	11. Opening Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Derek has some things he wants Stiles to know as they get ready to take a risk...

Derek stood in the doorway of Stiles’ room, watching him walking back and forth getting a duffel together of what he’d be taking with him to Beacon Hills. He was worried and it showed in how the fourth occurrence of Stiles tripping over the same shirt he’d tossed down half an hour ago wasn’t making him fight a smile.

There was nothing funny about all this, not even the tenacity of Stiles’ lack of coordination.

He wasn’t even sure if Stiles knew he was there, but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything. He didn’t know what to say. He had options, of course, of what he could say.

Why aren’t you taking all your stuff when you can’t come back if we don’t settle this in a week?

And if we do settle it in time, what makes you so sure you’ll still be coming back?

What if you get hurt?

What if one of us dies like Lydia feels?

What if we’re wrong about these Oni and you die?

None of those felt like the thing he should say, and it wasn’t only because he wasn’t keen on Stiles being able to know the answer to those questions if he decided to look. Because he was sure that he didn’t necessarily have to ask; if Stiles thought it was something he needed to do, he’d do it despite his feelings on the matter. Derek believed Stiles would tap into his abilities if he thought it’s what he needed to do.

The fifth time Stiles tripped over the shirt, he exclaimed “Son of a bitch!” and kicked it away, though he kicked it toward his closet so there was likely going to be a sixth time.

Derek knew he was being pretty fatalistic about this, jumping to extremes like Stiles not coming back whether or not they succeeded in drawing out the Oni, but he wasn’t optimistic by nature. That had long ago been forced out of him. He just couldn’t bring himself to simply accept that Stiles could actually decide he wanted to stay with Derek, to leave his dad back Beacon Hills and pick his life up right here with Derek. And Derek had no idea what Stiles would do if he was allowed to go back to a normal life. He’d barely graduated when the Oni had captured him and he’d told Derek that he hadn’t gotten a job of any sort and had only passively been looking at college.

Stiles had had no idea what he’d wanted to do with his life and then he’d lost the right to choose.

At least Derek had a better idea of what he should ask.

Stiles nearly collided with the closet door the sixth time. Then he walked back over to his bed, looking extremely frustrated, and flopped down onto his back next to his duffel bag, his arms splayed out to the sides as he let out a groan. “Can’t just let things be a mess for five minutes,” he groused and Derek wished he could be amused by Stiles’ complaint instead of in this crappy mood.

“Stiles?” he called out and raised an eyebrow when Stiles launched off the bed and back to his feet in surprise with a yelp.

“That’s it! I’m hiring a bellhop, removing the ‘hop’ from his job title, and having him just stomp around behind you,” Stiles declared and Derek felt a little closer to being able to feel amusement.

But he had to say something normal or Stiles would figure out how bothered he was.

“Whatever happened to just wearing a bell?” he asked.

“Like you’d wear a bell. Wait, are you saying you’d wear a bell? Because I’m not passing that up for a second. Do you have one on hand or do we need to go buy one? I get to pick it out.”

Stiles was nervous, which Derek would admit being relieved to realize. So often he just wasn’t sure why Stiles wasn’t more nervous more of the time. He had a lot to worry about. Real serious things to worry about instead of the superficial things so many people made a big deal out of.

For now, Derek stepped into the room, making sure he stepped down heavy so his feet audibly padded against the floor. He grabbed the shirt off the floor and tossed it to the hamper off to the side of Stiles’ closet and then sat down on the bed, Stiles’ head turning to follow the sound.

“So, um, how long were you standing at the door? I could have sworn you were in the living room,” Stiles asked, his voice strained with his anxiety.

“Couple of minutes. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“You’d think I’d be used to it by now, that I’d start expecting you to pop up where I don’t expect you. What’s it been, a month now and I still can’t pick up your steps unless you want me to. I can pick up Scott alright because I’m pretty sure he doesn’t know how to be subtle, and that’s coming from me. I’ve gotten better about Boyd because he’s a big lug and he’s good, but tall people can’t walk quiet once I know what to listen for.”

“Stiles,” Derek interrupted him before he could really get going.

Stiles caught himself before getting caught up any further, letting out a sigh as he ran his hands through his hair, something he’d obviously done plenty by how haphazard it was. Not that it was ever really organized, but right now it was really sticking out all over the place. He sat back down on the bed so his duffel was between the two of them as he let out a heavy sigh. “So, you pissed?” he asked, like he was doing everything he could to sound nonplussed about it.

“Not really pissed. I was earlier, but not anymore,” Derek answered honestly. There hadn’t been much anger involved, let alone toward Stiles, even for him being so willing to put himself in danger where Derek didn’t want him.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Stiles muttered, then spoke more clearly. “Whatever you want to say to me, just say it. I’m not a fan of things just hanging between us. Nothing changes when people don’t even try to work it out; they just get worse.”

Derek turned toward Stiles, folding his leg up to lay on the bed in front of him and pushing the duffel back a little. He usually did a little better when he could see Stiles. And right now, watching Stiles twisting his fingers together probably so he didn’t bounce his leg was helping him remember that they were both being affected by this and Stiles was likely not as keen about the whole thing as it might seem by him putting forward the idea.

“It’s weird,” Derek began. “I don’t want you to do this, but I want to see if we can get this over with. But then what if we do finish this, take out the Oni that know about your core?”

Stiles shrugged as he leaned back and rested his hands on the mattress behind him. “Then I can go back to trying to figure out what the hell to do with my life. I mean, I might have more options here than in Beacon Hills. Hey, maybe I could come on as a consultant to the Devas. Lydia says that’s doing her some good. I don’t even have to come on as a Beholder. She said that you guys hire out for investigations and I’ve always been good at figuring shit out. I mean, I don’t _need_ to see to get details and can have a report read off or converted to braille just as easily. That could work. That, or Lydia is just engaging in one of her favorite pastimes of feeding my flights of fancy.”

Derek let Stiles ramble, not even caring whether or not he was talking about something that was even an option or not. He’d gotten caught up with the certainty in Stiles’ declaration that he would be _here_.

“You want to come back?” he couldn’t help but ask.

Stiles turned toward him, his expression bewildered. Then he reached out for Derek, his hand touching Derek’s forearm to get a feel for his angle. Stiles moved closer, pushing his duffel the last bit out of the way with his hip so he could sit right in front of Derek’s leg, and then moved his hand up to the side of Derek’s head. Then he pulled his hand away and thumped Derek in the middle of his forehead with the heel of his palm. Derek just raised an eyebrow at Stiles for the act, not surprised when Stiles shook his hand out a little as he dropped his hand back down to his lap. Shifter skin – regardless of what kind of Shifter – was stronger than normal to tolerate when they tapped in to the ability to change form. Strong enough to keep knives and dull larger blades from breaking the skin or make someone regret hitting them with their bare fists.

Stiles had already discovered that by mistake a few weeks ago when he’d gotten really enthusiastic talking with his hands and Derek hadn’t been paying attention well enough to move. The back of Stiles’ hand had bruised – which was how Derek learned how easily Stiles bruised – and he’d spent the rest of the day making sure he kept a closer handle on his limbs. But it had only lasted the rest of the day and then he was back to normal and Derek figured Stiles had just accepted the consequences if he did it again.

Just another of the small things that had happened in the time they were together that didn’t mean much to anyone else but them. It was something for the two of them and that was important to Derek.

“You should be embarrassed by that level of stupidity, Derek.” And Derek did feel surprisingly scolded, but then thought that he didn’t deserve to be.

“I’m not going to assume what you want to do, Stiles,” he shot back as he crossed his arms and curled forward a little, closing himself off.

He recognized that he was really going straight to some extremes on his emotional responses to people. That was unusual for him but he couldn’t figure out what was going on to cause it. And without knowing why, he couldn’t curb it.

“I’m not saying you should assume, but you should at least give me a little credit to want to stick around you. Because last time I checked, we were pretty into what we have. I mean, so what if we haven’t actually slept together? Since when is that the indication that a couple is serious? It doesn’t hurt, but it has nothing to do with how they feel about each other.”

Derek admitted he’d been worried about that, about Stiles thinking he didn’t care as much as he did because he hadn’t brought up the topic of sex. It just took him a while to get comfortable with the idea of going that far with someone. He needed to reach a place in his own mind where he didn’t question if they were just using him. And he didn’t know how long that took because Stiles was the first person in a long time he’d even considered trying to get there with.

And it wasn’t like they were hands off of each other. They spent pretty much every night after they got back to his place pressed together on the couch to watch a movie or talk and they were making out an increasing amount.

Derek hadn’t picked up anything from Stiles that said he had any problem with the pace they were progressing at.

Though, Derek caught himself before getting too deep in his thoughts, Stiles wasn’t doing that now either. He was saying that it _wasn’t_ a problem.

“Does this have anything to do with what Argent was talking about?” Stiles asked, cutting into Derek’s thoughts. “I mean about why at least the first connections of an affinity haven’t formed yet between us being because of some trauma. Not that it’s unusual for that sort of thing to happen. I mean, traumatic events can make a core awaken, strengthen, or weaken so it makes sense that it can affect a core’s willingness to reach out to another.”

Derek went on the defensive before he could catch himself, “So what trauma has your core being just as withdrawn?”

“I’m a spazzy, awkward asshole who had a Beholder core awaken when I was ten that blinded me and made it practically impossible for me to be any less spazzy or awkward. Though the asshole I don’t mind so much. Between that and my mom’s death being about as shitty of an experience as it could have been happening right before my core awoke, I’m not seeing where you get the idea that I should be all about the warm fuzzies. Tag, you’re it.”

It had been a while since Stiles had really went to town talking down about himself and it had slipped Derek’s mind how vicious he was.

Stiles remained quiet for about a minute – surprising Derek for a while before he realized he’d held out because of stubbornness instead of patience – but then let out a deep groan and flopped back onto the bed, his arms thrown up over his head and his hands hanging off the opposite side of the mattress. His eyes were closed and Derek couldn’t tell if he was paying more attention to Derek now or less. “Sorry,” he said after a few deep breaths. “I wouldn’t make you talk about something you aren’t ready to talk about. That’s not trust. It’s definitely not love. I mean, if it was something really coming between us, I’d push, but it’s not. At least not as far as I can tell.”

Derek couldn’t take his eyes off Stiles, enamored by this person and reminded of the heart he did a damn good job of covering up with his eccentric and sarcastic personality.

The thing was, Stiles had every right to ask. Derek only hadn’t told him because it was always easier to just not talk about it. But that wasn’t how things should be between him and the person he was very sure he loved. It wasn’t how he wanted it to be.

Stiles’ scent shifted. It didn’t change like it had the night Stiles tapped into his core while dreaming, but there was a touch of that scent. And Derek couldn’t pick up his own scent changing, but he could feel it reaching out in response.

They were physically close to each other and their emotions were strong: the discharge of their cores were trying to reach out enough to form an affinity.

It wasn’t the first time Derek had noticed it and he had no idea if Stiles had a way of being aware of it happening. And like he’d told Chris, the cores were accepting the discharge, taking in those tendrils that were supposed to grab hold and become the foundation of a connection but it just wasn’t enough. There had yet to be enough there for the connection to take.

Because Derek wasn’t giving enough of himself to Stiles. Again, it had nothing to do with sex, but rather he didn’t know how to not hold himself back. There was always more, more he could have said, more he could have reached out, more he could have allowed Stiles to touch, just _more_. And, sure, it wasn’t like he had to spill everything for it to matter, but they had to _feel_ close for it to be something real. When there was so much more, how was an affinity supposed to be strong?

No wonder his emotions were running so rampant, his control seemingly compromised. Being denied an affinity could break someone’s heart, but for it to be trying and just not working when it should had to be “frustrating” for the core. Emotions were as tied to control over a core as the mental discipline.

He couldn’t let this keep holding them back. Didn’t he deserve to have things work out for him just this once?

“The last time I trusted someone enough to think I loved them, it got my family killed,” he said, his voice weak and choked with emotion. Stiles opened his eyes and his shoulders tensed in surprise.

“What?” he asked.

“She was older, smarter. Made it easier for her to make me think she loved me, make me think I loved her too, got me to drop my guard enough to set my family up and kill them.” It was easier when it was just the facts, but only just.

“How’d she do that? What was her disposition?”

Derek’s head dropped. “She didn’t have one. She was human.”

Stiles rose up to his elbows and hesitated before he sat up all the way and reached out to rest his hand over half of Derek’s face. Derek wasn’t sure why Stiles had done that until he recognized the touch as something he hadn’t felt since the night they’d gotten together: he was feeling Derek’s expression because he couldn’t watch them.

“What happened?” he asked, leaning a bit closer so his arm wasn’t as extended.

Derek didn’t know where to start, only that he realized that he did want to give Stiles a real answer, to tell him what he’d been through. After all, he knew what Stiles had suffered; it was only right, let alone fair. And if this was what was keeping the affinity from forming between them, Derek would accept breaking down that barrier between them.

He let his hands fall down to his lap and looked down at the mattress between them, Stiles’ hand following the motion so it remained on his face.

“You know Shifter cores have some of the strongest genetic components, right? A Shifter, no matter if they were awakened or born, has close to a seventy-five percent chance for each of their children to be born Shifters. And if they aren’t born with a core, they have about a ninety percent likelihood of awakening as a Shifter before they hit preteens. Well, apparently, some people take that to mean we’re unnatural. We’re talking cores and they call a particular disposition unnatural.” Derek scoffed, trying to keep himself going and Stiles’ fingertips caressed along the line of his eyebrows and the bridge of his nose soothingly. “Then there’s the transformative abilities of Shifters that they like to throw around as proof of how they’re in the right.”

Stiles rolled his eyes a little. “But groups like that don’t get anywhere. All they can do is sit around and bitch about what they think is wrong. They’re the user’s equivalent of the KKK, if only a little less deranged than that crowd.”

“It all comes from the same place, though: fear. They may not be able to do anything legally to further their cause, but since when has that stopped people from trying to get their point to become more widely accepted. But her, it wasn’t about fear with her. It was like she just chose to hate Shifters and dedicated everything she had to that hate.” Derek had to pause to collect himself, remember that he was saying all this with a purpose. “Her hate was destructive, crazy, murderous and she focused all of that on my family. We were pretty well-known to the community. Everyone thought it was just about the most fascinating thing that both my parents were wolf Shifters, my mom also born and my dad awakened. And I had three siblings, all of us born Shifters. People talked to us all the time, asked us questions, asked for help, so when some woman started talking to me, flirting with me and saying she was interested in me, I didn’t think much of it. She asked me about my family, about what we could do, what it was like growing up as a Shifter, how it seemed different than anyone else I knew. I never suspected that she was gathering intel. And I never doubted it when she said she loved me and wanted to be with me. I was always suppressing my senses back then, didn’t want to hear or smell everything on the block, so I wasn’t so great about paying attention to them. And because she had no core, there was no chance for an affinity so what was there to suspect from one not forming.”

“How, um…how old were you?” Stiles asked haltingly and Derek wondered why he was hesitating.

“Fifteen. She was twenty-three.” He felt Stiles flinch at that and thought that wasn’t an expected reaction. “We went out for about two months before she got her chance. She got help from a Glyph, sealed us in the house by placing sealing runes on the house, cut us off from our abilities and barricaded us in, then set the house on fire. My older sister threw me down into the basement. I found a window where the fire wasn’t burning very strong and was able to get out. Once I was out, my healing kicked in and got out of danger pretty quickly. But the house collapsed before I was able to try and get anyone else out. And even if I’d managed to get a door open, once I went back inside, I’d have been inside the range of the seals and would have probably died.”

Stiles frowned briefly. “Have enough shrinks tell you that?” he asked.

“Enough versions of the same message, all saying that I shouldn’t feel guilty because I lived.” He scoffed. “The one who gave her all she needed to kill my family and I’m the one that lived. How is that not something to feel guilty about?”

Stiles shrugged one shoulder slightly. “They’re just doing they’re job. Not their fault they can’t make you listen. And just because they’re telling you not to feel guilty doesn’t mean they think you’re wrong for feeling that way. Feeling guilty is usually an indicator that you’re a good person. But then it gets in the way.”

“It did. I was an asshole, angry, didn’t think things through, didn’t care about consequences, didn’t care about making sure I was alright. I applied to the Devas when I turned eighteen but was only accepted on the condition that I see a therapist for the duration of my training period. And if the therapist didn’t clear me when I finished, I wouldn’t be eligible to pass training. I didn’t have to be perfect, I just had to be able to act with the values of a Deva and that meant caring, for myself as well as others. I worked shit out, cleared my eval, and have been able to have a successful career as a Deva.”

Derek went silent, not sure what else there was for him to say. He’d laid out the facts and felt better for having done so. He really had put in a lot of work into being genuinely past what had happened and he believed he was overall successful about it. There were only a few times here and there that he really felt the pain of what he’d been through, what he’d lost, but it didn’t affect his decision-making for assignments and that showed in how few casualties he had on his record. He’d earned his current position because of the work he’d put into himself, even if he didn’t necessarily want it.

But he hadn’t wanted therapy either and then it had helped, been what he needed, so he figured there was value in seeing how things worked out.

Stiles looked thoughtful, obviously working through everything in his own way. Derek wondered what his exact thoughts were but waited for Stiles to get wherever he needed to be on his own. After all, Derek was better suited to silence. He preferred to listen.

“What about her?” Stiles asked soon enough. Never let it be said that he wasn’t quick when he focused.

“She was caught a few days after the fire. When they determined that the fire wasn’t caused by a user, that it was just a flare and gasoline, the police requested help from the Devas and U.E.A., asking them if there were any Readers or even Empaths that could be sent out to see if they could just make a patrol of the town for a few days and try to find anything. They had a good response, both organizations claiming that because of the Glyph’s involvement, they could consider it all connected to their own Oni investigation. About a dozen Readers were sent, identified her, and she was arrested and imprisoned. The trial was basically a formality, the definition of an open-and-shut-case, and she’s been in prison ever since.”

“Did anything about her using you come up?”

“No. She refused to talk. And I…just couldn’t say anything about it, kept myself locked away from it all until long after the trial ended. I’m not even sure she knew I was still alive, it was being kept quiet that there had been a survivor until she was caught and I don’t know what they told her until she went to trial. Besides, it’s not like it would have done her any good to confessing to having sex with a minor to her list of crimes.”

“Right. What was her name?”

Derek couldn’t tell if he was surprised Stiles asked that or not. After all, Stiles was always chasing down information – no matter how useless it was – and this should have been no different. And he was obviously paying attention to how willing Derek was being about answering. But Derek had been very purposeful in avoiding saying her name for multiple reasons, first and foremost being that he really didn’t like saying it, didn’t like remembering her that clearly.

Then again, Stiles very well might have noticed his avoidance and was trying his luck in getting an answer because of that.

What did it hurt for Stiles to know? He’d told him the rest, why not this?

Something about it made all the difference, but damned if Derek knew why.

He must have stayed silent for longer than he thought because Stiles let out a heavy sigh and his hand dropped away from Derek’s face, closing into a tight fist before he dropped it onto the bed beside him.

When Stiles spoke again, his voice was strained and he really seemed to be holding himself back and definitely didn’t sound very genuine in what he said, even if he was being honest. “I guess it doesn’t really matter as long as that’s where she stays. Why bother bringing up more than you have to, right?” Stiles gave him a strained smile, and again Derek got the feeling of it being honest but not quite genuine. Stiles was holding back. “I appreciate you telling me what you did. I mean, it was obvious something had happened to you even if you didn’t drop hints all the time.” He had? “I’m serious: thank you for telling me, Derek. Thank you for letting me in.”

Stiles reached out again and pressed his palm to Derek’s cheek firmly, cupping it briefly before he moved to stand and Derek got the feeling that he’d just taken a step backwards. He couldn’t let that be how things ended.

He grabbed Stiles’ hand before he moved too far away and Stiles turned back toward him with a confused expression. “Kate Argent.”

The room went still. Not just silent, but still. There was a good ten second pause before Stiles turned back around to face toward him. “Argent?” he asked.

“Chris’ sister.”

Stiles looked shell-shocked before his eyes narrowed a bit in suspicion. “The guy in charge of you?”

Derek nodded, forgetting momentarily about avoiding non-verbals. “Yeah.”

“Well that sounds awkward as hell,” Stiles mused smoothly and Derek’s eyes narrowed at the quick shift that had come with no warning attached. But even as he was recovering from that change, Stiles was again looking thoughtful. “He blame you?”

“Not that I’m aware of. It’s not like we speak in anything but an official capacity so I haven’t exactly asked him how he feels about what Kate did. He was already a Deva Master when I completed training and took the position here. Hell, I didn’t even meet him until I’d been active for about six months.”

“But he knew who you were?”

“He’d be a shitty Deva if he didn’t, let alone a Master. He’s a good guy, though; I made sure to see that. He’s not Kate and neither is his daughter.”

Stiles was still frowning. “That sort of hate doesn’t just come from nowhere. The easiest place to learn it is from family.” He shrugged. “I’m not disagreeing with you: twice meeting him tells me Argent can be a bit of a dick but that’s just bad people skills. And from what I’ve heard of Allison around the office, she doesn’t even have his asshole ways and is just a nice girl who happens to be able to take down most of the Devas you’ve got hanging around.”

“It was a long time ago, close to ten years now. I’m not some naïve kid anymore. If there’s someone who wants to finish what she started, they’ve got a fight on their hands.”

Derek’s voice had lowered into a bit of a growl and he felt a slight shudder travel down to Stiles’ hand.

“Not to undermine the seriousness of what we’re talking about, but that was hot as hell.”

Derek rolled his eyes and dropped Stiles’ hand. But Stiles grinned and took another step closer to him. Derek paused for a second before he turned to set both feet on the floor and his knee brushed against Stiles’ leg with the motion. Stiles took another step forward and Derek parted his legs so that Stiles could step between them and lean his knees against the edge of the bed while slipping his arms around Derek’s shoulders in a loose embrace. He leaned his head forward and touched it to Derek’s, letting out a deep breath that sounded more relaxed than he’d been all day.

“Thanks, Derek.” He went quiet again, his body relaxed but Derek could tell it was only through concentration to be that way. Derek lifted his arms and looped them around Stiles’ waist, hugging him closer, enjoying the feel of his warmth against him. “Can I ask you something and have you take it for the absolute literal meaning with no undertones or double entendre?”

Derek wanted to pull away to get a better look at Stiles’ expression, but he got the feeling Stiles had stayed close for a reason. He always said he didn’t need to see Derek’s eyes on them to know they were.

“Yeah,” he replied simply instead.

“Can I sleep with you tonight?” Derek really had to fight the desire to look up at Stiles now; he hadn’t been expecting that. “I mean, we’re not even going to be in the same place for the next week at least and that bugs me. And I know we’ve fallen asleep on the couch a few times but being okay with something happening on accident isn’t the same as agreeing to sleep in the same bed. I want to do that. And like I said: no subtext or ulterior motives. I just want to be with you, especially after what you just told me.”

For one, it didn’t feel like Stiles was rambling. He was definitely nervous about asking, but everything he said sounded intentional, had a purpose in being said instead of his usual flood of thoughts that came out because he had no filter between his brain and mouth.

And Derek couldn’t help but smile and feel the affection he had for this ridiculous man grow. His arms tightened just a bit more around Stiles’ waist and he angled his head so he could brush his lips against Stiles’.

“Sounds good to me.”

Stiles let out a content sigh as Derek claimed another kiss. He let Stiles go and the younger man finished getting his bag packed and set it out in the living room next to Derek’s. Kira was going to be there in the morning to pick him up and drive him and Lydia to Beacon Hills while Derek followed a little while later in his own car and Boyd and Scott would be following as well at some point.

The two of them went through the rest of the evening as smoothly as they could while both being acutely aware of the tension that wouldn’t completely go away because of what they’d be starting the next day. But while Stiles took a shower, Derek got changed for bed and looked around his room.

No one but him had been in here before. Stiles had kept out of his room at all times and he wasn’t exactly one to entertain guests with any regularity. To have Stiles joining him was important to him, too. He’d known that when he first agreed to Stiles’ request, but now it was actually registering as something that was going to happen and he felt even more happy that Stiles had asked. He wanted this, he really did.

He heard Stiles finish in the shower and he waited while Stiles returned to his room for a few minutes to get dressed in some pajamas before he padded to Derek’s door and paused in the threshold.

Derek couldn’t help but give Stiles a soft smile, no matter that he couldn’t see it. Or maybe because he couldn’t see it…

“You sure you want to go without your laptop?” Derek asked.

Stiles gave him a glare before he stepped into the room carefully, following the sound of Derek’s voice.

Stiles wouldn’t have memorized the floor plan in here and didn’t know where anything was.

Derek let Stiles come a few steps closer on his own before reaching out to take hold of his hand and pulled him close, dropping a kiss to damp dark hair before he led Stiles to the bed and let Stiles feel out where he wanted to get situated.

“As tempting as that is, the point was to spend time with you. You know, get some grade A cuddles in before we won’t be able to. If the laptop came with me, I’d just spend all my time with the thirty-seven webpages I’ve currently got open. It wouldn’t be fair to either relationship.”

Derek shook his head as he sat on the bed and then laid out, checking to make sure he’d plugged his phone in. He was laying back on his pillow as Stiles sat down and bounced a few times, tempting Derek to ask how old he was. But then he felt behind him for Derek, got a hand on his side and then laid down before turning into Derek, resting his head on his shoulder for a few seconds before Derek nudged him to move and wrapped his arm around Stiles’ shoulders, his fingers resting on his head to twist through Stiles’ hair. His other hand found Stiles’ and their fingers intertwined as the two of them made a few more small adjustments to their positions to get comfortable.

Derek didn’t expect Stiles would stay there against him for much longer after they fell asleep, not with how much heat Derek put out but he was determined to make the best of this while he could.

He lay there quietly, listening to Stiles’ breathing and heartbeat as his fingers carded through his hair. He thought over what they’d be attempting starting tomorrow and he was reminded that there was one thing he wanted to know.

“Stiles?” he called in a low voice.

“Hm?” He knew Stiles wasn’t asleep from his breathing, and he sort of regretted that he was interrupting how relaxed he was, but he was really curious.

“What did Lydia ask you to do? I’m pretty sure I’ve never seen her look guilty.” Not to mention how Stiles had yelled at her.

Stiles exhaled heavily and shifted his position just a bit. “You know Lydia: she hates not having all the answers. Sure, she’s a freaking genius but she’s also a damn know-it-all. Why do you think she works as a consultant for the Devas but has never applied to become one?” Derek’s fingers paused in Stiles’ hair and he felt Stiles grin: Reapers may not be allowed to become Devas, but that wasn’t actually common knowledge. Only Reapers who applied found that out. “If she was a Deva, it would be her job to know. As a civilian consultant, it’s the Devas asking her for help. It gives her the warm fuzzies.”

“Ok,” Derek drew out the word to show he wasn’t sure how this answered his question.

“She wanted to get the answer, _know_ who was in danger.”

It took Derek a few seconds that he was going to blame on the stress of the long day for that to register what Stiles meant and when he did, his embrace tightened a little protectively.

The longer he was with Stiles, the more he was adopting Stiles’ dislike for him tapping into his abilities.

Stiles squeezed his fingers and confirmed, “She asked me to look, try and help her get through the haze she’s suddenly dealing with and figure out who’s in danger. I told her I never look forward by choice and only look back if I absolutely have to.” He scoffed then. “I’d seal the fucking thing if they’d let me, but Beholder cores aren’t allowed to be sealed even if the person hasn’t gotten lost. And there aren’t enough Beholders to fight against that stupid rule and get it changed. We’re too valuable, anyway.”

Unfortunately, Stiles was probably right. The rare cores and uncentered ones had stipulations assigned to them that weren’t even being considered to be changed, like Stiles had mentioned, likely because there weren’t enough people to oppose how things were. Because who else besides the user themselves would see the restrictions as that?

“Hey, you know what’s really ironic?” Stiles suddenly said in that tone that meant he was just saying something that ran through his head and it didn’t guarantee that it had any connection to what they were talking about. “Sealing a core means jack shit for Oni coming after your core. A seal is just a seal, keeps the user from accessing their abilities. It doesn’t make the core disappear. Unless they do it really wrong and the core gets destroyed, but that’s a different matter. And murder.”

Because the destruction of a core was never gentle and sort of like setting off explosives ingrained in someone’s body. Only a failed core transfer by an Ouroboros could be survived because that didn’t destroy the core, but it instead lost all power and “died”. There was minimal damage to the person with that.

“Yeah, I guess that would qualify as ironic,” Derek replied.

Stiles exhaled deeply, obviously relaxing more and getting closer to sleep. Derek smirked at the thought that of course talking wouldn’t mean he’d stay awake: he was always talking so why would it?

“Wanna know something weird?”

“What?”

“Every word we have to do with cores and users are just taken from words that already existed. So, every word, even if it’s from a different language, has a second definition. Core, disposition, affinity, Oni, Deva, disposition names: they are all other words. You say ‘criminal’ or ‘cop’ and there’s just the one thing that everyone is going to make the connection to. Sure, you can play with context, turn it from a noun to a verb and that’ll change meaning but it’s all to do with people breaking the law and people upholding the law.” Stiles’ words were getting more jumbled and it was only because Derek was so used to picking out what Stiles was saying that he was catching most of it. “But Devas are gods. And Oni are demons. How’s that for subliminal messages? And a Beholder is a hundred-eyed monster that sees everything.”

“I’m pretty sure the disposition came before Dungeons and Dragons.”

“I better remember that you just made that reference in the morning. If I don’t, I’m requiring you to tell me it happened."

Derek kissed Stiles’ forehead. “I don’t agree to that.”

A few seconds passed before Stiles replied as he got really close to falling asleep. “You’re such an asshole. This is important to me.”

Derek gave a pause before he said anything, figuring that would help him get to sleep all the quicker. “Of course it’d be. You’re lucky you’re important to me or I’d dump you for that,” he whispered jokingly against Stiles’ temple, willing to say something so…sappy only because he was pretty sure Stiles wasn’t awake enough to remember and tease him about it later.

And Stiles proved that by only giving a barely audible hum in reply and Derek knew he was out. Which was a relief because Stiles needed to sleep. Derek could get away with less sleep – his disposition replenished energy better than Stiles’ did – and he wasn’t keen on facing tomorrow with the possibility of Stiles being at a disadvantage because he spent the hours through the middle of the night Googling whatever crossed his mind and calling it “research”.

Derek was less concerned about tomorrow. Opening up like he had to Stiles helped him feel like there wasn’t this huge gap between them and he didn’t have that nagging thought that he was doing something wrong and that was why they hadn’t formed an affinity yet. Sure, it was unlikely that an affinity would form through the night, but he was okay with that. Everything else between them had happened at their own pace, so why should an affinity be any different? They’d be alright.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's quite a bit in this chapter and some things that won't even be seen in this fic that comes from helpful discussions with my sister. If you've read anything by AkinaSky, that's her ^_^ and she has a much stronger feel for many of the characters than I do and good instincts. (We trade help with fics and it's awesome!) A big one that shows up in this chapter is Kate not having a core, that she was just a regular person because that seemed all the more impactful and reflected her thorough crazy a bit better in my opinion.  
> Now, this chapter was important, but I still feel the need to say: Shit goes down in the next chapter! ;)  
> Thanks for reading and see you next time!


	12. In Transit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The plan to bait out the Oni that no one really wants to go through with is set into motion...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three more chapter after this one but there's plenty that happens. Thank you everyone for reading and hope you continue to enjoy all the way through to the completion of the fic. I've been so happy to be getting all the kudos and comments I've been and I appreciate every single one deeply. THANK YOU!

In the morning, Kira had picked Stiles up when planned, Lydia in tow. Stiles had lurked in the entryway of Derek’s apartment until Derek stepped closer and then he grabbed him for a passionate kiss that had Derek ready to hold on and not let him go. But then, just as quickly, Stiles let Derek go and grabbed his duffel and went out to meet Kira while Derek just stood there for another few minutes asking himself what the hell he was going along with.

He gave them the planned half an hour before he grabbed his own bag and headed for his car. With the routes they’d planned out, he should end up close behind them and he’d already gotten a text from Lydia letting him know that they were right on schedule for getting out of the city.

He set his phone where he could easily see the screen for updates from both Lydia and Scott; Boyd would be driving and Stiles had been told he wasn’t allowed to text Derek throughout the drive, considering his texting habits of swamping the person’s phone on top of him being bored. He was allowed to text Scott, but not Derek.

And Derek had also pulled out the earpiece connected to the two-way radio he’d grabbed from the equipment locker at the office that they would use if there was any problem while in transit.

He would be the only one they weren’t expecting to hear anything from for the few hours’ drive it would take to reach Beacon Hills. He sent a text to Lydia and Scott just before he put his car into gear but that was all they were expecting.

Stiles hadn’t been happy about that.

His route out of the city was more direct, a little faster so that he could make up the difference to get closer behind them while there would still be enough time that if an Oni was following him, it might take a little longer for them to make the connection. And Boyd and Scott were waiting on the route that Kira was taking and would be following a bit closer, doing their best to actually identify if someone was actually following Stiles.

It would be a lot more convenient if their office had a Reader available, Derek had noted the day before when they’d been planning everything out. Having someone who could read thoughts always made things just so much easier. Hell, there hadn’t been a Reader at the division he worked for since he’d joined the Devas but that didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of how much easier things went when there was one around.

They made solid progress for about an hour, finishing about half of the drive with moderate traffic to deal with, Derek ending up and staying about five miles behind Kira with Scott reporting nothing suspicious from other cars and that they’d settled back to hang around a dozen cars behind Kira. And Lydia’s last text had been a complaint that they didn’t bring enough to keep Stiles occupied so everything was fine there.

Derek was anxious, though. He didn’t feel like things were right. And the feeling had been growing for the past half hour. It was to the point that he’d had to ease up on the control he had over his core, which he usually suppressed when he was driving so he didn’t get overloaded with just the sound and smell of so many vehicles. That had helped a little, like his senses needed the freedom to satiate his instincts by not being dulled at all. But the closer they got to Beacon Hills, the worse he felt. And it didn’t even feel right to blame it on knowing that Stiles was putting himself in danger as bait. That didn’t seem to be what was making him so uneasy.

Actually, no matter what he tried to blame it on, it didn’t feel like the right answer, which was getting frustrating the longer it went on.

He had good instincts. They hadn’t done him wrong in a long time, especially not since he’d finished his training as a Deva, which for a Shifter meant a lot of honing those instincts and practicing relying on them. So, just because he couldn’t figure out why, it didn’t mean he assumed he was wrong. There was a reason he felt like this and it was just a matter of time before he found out the cause.

Maybe he should have worked out for someone to ride with him. He could really have used the distraction.

He was putting some serious consideration into just giving in and calling someone in one of the other cars when he came into view of a backup of traffic. And he couldn’t see how far forward the start of the jam went. And he hadn’t been passed by any emergency vehicles and couldn’t even hear sirens – and those sounds carried over quite a distance – so it was possible that this was something very recent.

But he hadn’t heard anything from Lydia or Scott and the earpiece was silent, so Boyd hadn’t turned his receiver on.

Derek took in a deep breath and pulled over to the shoulder, making sure he was far enough over that he could leave the vehicle there if he needed to and it should be safe; he liked his car. He parked and grabbed his phone, pulling up Scott’s number and calling it, not even considering dealing with a text.

He held the phone up to his ear as it started ringing, his eyes glued forward so he didn’t start to fidget. The line rang three times and he was about to redial when the line connected and his hearing picked up the racing of heartbeats and sounds of a fight.

He was already moving to get out of the car when Scott’s voice came through. “Three Oni. One’s a Dragon Titan. He destroyed the road right in front of Kira. The car crashed and we haven’t been able to get to it.” Derek was listening to Scott’s relaying of information, allowing the flash of pride that the younger man was keeping himself calm and collected: he didn’t always, especially when people he cared about were in danger. And he cared about both Kira and Stiles so there was plenty for him to start to panic over.

“Any idea on the other two?” Derek asked as he closed the door to his car and gave a glare toward a car that honked off to his side, the sound piercing his enhanced hearing.

Scott hadn’t learned the scents of dispositions like Derek had so he wouldn’t be able to get an answer so easily.

“I’m gonna guess Berserker for one of them from how he’s fighting Boyd. They’re both holding back. The third hasn’t gotten involved yet, just keeps me from getting around to the other car.”

“Keep trying but don’t push too hard. I’m making my way up to you. It’ll take a few minutes.”

Derek hung up the phone and pushed it into his pocket and was about to tap into his core to initiate a partial shift when he realized that he needed to call this in. People as far back as he was might have called 911, but the Devas or U.E.A. wouldn’t be told. He let out a sigh and pulled his ID out of his pocket and walked around to the driver’s side of the nearest car, the woman inside watching him. He held his ID up to the window where she could clearly see it and she rolled down the window after a short pause.

“I’m Derek Hale, Deva Senior. I need you to call 911 and tell them that there’s an emergency situation with Oni involved. There are Devas on the scene but back-up needs to be sent immediately. If you remember my name by the time you get to that point, tell it to them. Don’t expect to be getting through here anytime soon.”

He didn’t give her a chance to answer before he turned and jogged away, moving back to the shoulder and releasing the power of his core, feeling the shift start to affect him.

Scott had told him once that the shift had taken a while to get used to, that it still didn’t feel completely natural. Derek had never experienced that: it had always been just another way for him to access his abilities. So, when his muscles coiled with the increased strength and the features of his face morphed and his teeth and fingernails extended to points for fangs and claws and his senses sharpened further, it was no different of a feeling than any other ability he activated.

As soon as he felt the shift settle to completion, he inhaled deeply to take advantage of his enhanced sense of smell. He was only about two miles away, glad that he had closed some distance from where he’d been hanging around through the drive, likely from the time between when they’d been attacked and when he caught up to traffic. But he could also smell blood and the burn of the power of multiple core’s discharge.

He started running, darting past the stopped cars at a speed equal to what a Paladin or a Valkyrie could accomplish and he would cover the distance in a matter of minutes. He sorted through what he picked up as he got closer so he could be as prepared as possible to jump into the fight.

Scott had been right: a Dragon Titan – so more dangerous than an Elemental in a lot of ways since it took less power for them to manipulate their element - and a Berserker. But he couldn’t pick up on Boyd’s core so he must have been playing it smart and hadn’t tapped into it yet. Boyd was good about that, about knowing when was the right time to activate his abilities as his core only had enough power for the strength and stamina boost of a Berserker for three and a half minutes. And he hadn’t learned how to only access partial boosts so it was all or nothing for him. Scott hadn’t Shifted but was tapped into his core.

He couldn’t pick up anything from Lydia, Stiles, or Kira besides the presence of their scent. Then again, he didn’t know the scent of their blood so he couldn’t say if the blood he was picking up was theirs. He could only pick up trace amounts of Boyd and Scott’s blood, so they obviously only had superficial cuts.

His attention was taken by the sight of a huge slab of concrete suddenly being thrown up and toward the side of the road, a pair of cars falling away to the side from the ground literally coming up underneath them. He was only about half a mile away and he tried to get an eye on Boyd and Scott now that he was within view of the fight.

He saw Scott a few feet away from one of the toppled cars, getting his feet back under him and then moving toward the car and checking inside. Derek slowed down a little and saw that many of the vehicles were already empty and he gave an internal curse at being so focused on getting to his team that he disregarded the innocent civilians who could get dragged into this. At least their survival instincts seemed intact and they’d already made a run for it as far as he could tell. And looking further, he could see that traffic heading the other direction had stopped as well and people seemed just as intent on not getting closer. Good. Once he got closer, he could have Scott or Boyd clear the area more thoroughly.

Backup wouldn’t be quick, from regular law enforcement or user agencies, not out this far. They were on their own.

Derek caught sight of Boyd, the man ducking behind a car just as a chunk of concrete flew past him and Derek decided that’s where he’d start. He picked up speed again and focused his scent on the Dragon, figuring out his location before he leapt onto a nearby car, jumped across a few roofs and then sprang on the Dragon with his claws extended in front of him so it would be the first thing that hit.

The Dragon let out a yelp of shock as he was knocked back, Derek hearing the cracking of ribs as his claws broke the skin where he’d impacted the man’s right shoulder. He was about to make another slash when the scent of the Dragon core spiked and he jumped away instead, landing and turning back to see that the ground had shifted under the Dragon so that it would have taken Derek’s feet out from under him.

Titans – ones who could control earth - sucked to deal with, Dragons even more so since they didn’t use physiological motions to control the element. At least with Elementals they had to move and that movement could be read. Dragons just had to be in contact with it. With Dragons it was about radius, about finding how far their power could influence and ideally working from outside it.

And with Kira unaccounted for, they didn’t have a long-range fighter. Not ideal for their situation.

There was another spike of scent and Derek jumped away as the ground gave out again and he jumped a few cars away closer to Boyd.

“Nice timing,” Boyd called out to him as he passed. “Scott’s dealing with the Berserker.”

“Any read on the third disposition?” Derek asked as he crouched behind the car next to the one Boyd was behind.

“No, he hasn’t done anything. He’s right next to Kira’s car. And the Dragon flipped the car just after Scott hung up with you. We still haven’t heard from any of them. And Scott isn’t as good as you with scents.”

Boyd was asking without asking. “I can’t say for sure by scent. I don’t know the scent of their blood.”

The Dragon was up and moving again and a quick look toward Scott showed that he was still dodging the Berserker.

Derek scented the air quickly and frowned. “Go help Scott. This Berserker is good about only accessing portions of the enhancement. He’s matching Scott and Scott isn’t the best about the long term. Take care of the Oni and get to the others. I’ll get you guys some leeway from the Dragon.”

“Right. Sorry I dropped the ball on telling you we’d been attacked. I messed up.”

Derek paused and looked over to Boyd, who was avoiding looking toward him. He let out a sigh as he moved to step out from behind the car. “Live and learn. Just make sure everyone can do the same. Get to work.”

Derek didn’t give Boyd a chance to respond and hoped he would continue to be one of the most competent people he knew so he could focus all his efforts on the Dragon. He sprang out from behind the car, adjusted his angle when he saw where the Dragon was searching for him about three cars away and again charged with his claws extended in front of him. He aimed just off to the guy’s right so he wouldn’t impact him directly and knock him over, needing to keep his hands off the ground because his skin had to be in contact with the ground for his core to have any effect.

The man saw him early enough that he was able to drop to the ground quickly and duck under Derek’s attack. He immediately touched his hand to the ground and Derek heard the rumble of the ground around them and saw the concrete breaking apart where he was landing. Taking advantage of the shift’s speed and agility, he landed and then immediately jumped again so barely any of his weight was put on the ground where it would have fallen away under him. He angled his jump again toward his opponent and swung his leg in a sweeping round kick that caught the Dragon on the shoulder. But with his enhanced strength, it was more than enough to dislocate the arm and throw the man all the way to the ground.

Knowing better than to expect that to be enough, Derek made sure this landing was as brief as the last and he jumped away so he could reset his balance and momentum. He landed with a slight skid from the sharp angle he’d jumped at a few feet away from the Dragon and turned to face him as he gasped in pain and clutched his arm.

“Motherfucker, you’re gonna pay for that!” the man ground out through his pain as Derek coiled his legs for another jump. He could keep the guy from touching the ground, there was a truck a few cars over with an empty bed and he could easily toss him in there and knock him out, set Scott or Boyd to keep him there.

He launched himself when he caught a familiar scent just before he was struck and knocked off his feet and to the ground, slamming his back into the passenger door of a car before he could position himself to roll out of it. He hadn’t hit hard enough to cause any damage beyond bruising that would be healed in less than an hour so he rushed to get his feet under him and out of the line of where that blast had come from.

As he moved, he looked where it had come from to get a visual he knew was imperative. Because he’d recognized that scent as the one he’d ingrained in his memory nearly a month ago. It was the same scent he’d picked up and had been the sparse lead they’d had to go off of since Stiles had come into his protection.

The third Oni was the Sidhe, the wind Elemental, that had been to the apartment Stiles was held captive in.

The Sidhe was already at the Dragon’s side, kneeling down and reaching out to press his hand to the guy’s shoulder. The Dragon groaned and then screamed out as the Sidhe suddenly shoved down, pushing against the joint and Derek heard the crack of it being forced closer to being back in place.

Derek was about to take advantage of their distraction and move in when the Sidhe threw out his arm in a wide arc toward Derek and he was again knocked back into the car and then had to drop and roll out of the way as the car next to the one he’d been slammed into was pushed toward him by the force of the wind. He got clear easily enough and stood to look over the hood of the car that had almost smashed into him to see that the Sidhe had already put his hand back against the Dragon’s shoulder.

With the disruption to the wind, Derek didn’t immediately pick up the scent of the core discharge, but when he did, he growled out a curse as he recognized the soft scent of a Regen. Great; even if the joint wasn’t completely back in place, a Regen could heal the damage enough that it wouldn’t be as debilitating as a dislocated shoulder.

And just as Derek tensed up to attack and interrupt the healing, he caught another familiar scent: Boyd’s core had been activated. He had decided that it was time to tap into the increased speed, strength, endless stamina, and accelerated healing of his Berserker core.

They had three minutes to wrap this up or Boyd would be a casualty. Derek started his internal clock, having spent a lot of time practicing keeping track of the seconds passing without it taking his attention for this exact reason.

He attacked, jumping over the car and aiming his strike with his claws for the Sidhe, needing to force him away from healing the Dragon any further. He got close, but the Sidhe again twisted and swung his arm wildly toward Derek, a strong gust of wind slamming into Derek. But he’d been quick enough that there wasn’t enough to completely stop Derek with his boosted strength and he only had to shift his weight and stance to counter the force. He then resumed his charge and slashed at the Sidhe, making him fall backwards away from Derek.

Derek was about to take another swing when the ground in front of him shot up toward him, a chunk of concrete coming loose and barely missing his face, scratching along his cheek as he dove to the side.

Damn, these two were familiar with each other, worked together well. And Derek wasn’t focusing like he should be; he shouldn’t have missed the scent of the Dragon’s discharge.

He didn’t allow time to be distracted, though, as he switched his target back to the Dragon, smoothly sidestepping the disrupted ground so that he was at the Dragon’s back, his close proximity allowing him to reach out and get a hand on the man’s nape and shoved his face towards the pavement, overpowering him with ease to slam him against the harsh surface, feeling the body go limp under his hand.

The scent of the Dragon core dissipated as he went unconscious. And even if he woke up, head injuries made control over cores practically impossible for anyone, regardless of where their core was centered. He might be able to access his core, even release some power, but it wouldn’t be controlled.

He rose to his feet and turned toward the Sidhe, who was looking down at the still body of the Dragon with obvious rage: he cared about the Dragon.

Derek’s instincts were on high alert: this guy was dangerous without the rage. He just felt it. It didn’t matter that he didn’t have an intimidating build, which wasn’t surprising with him being a Sidhe Elemental – he had to be able to move quickly and smoothly for his disposition – and the dirt brown hair that hung down just past his eyes made him look unkempt. His eyes, an earthy brown that really just contributed to him appearing quite average, but was also where Derek found the most connection to the wariness he felt about the man. And while he looked to be in his mid to late thirties – and Derek was used to picking out the differences in appearances that started becoming apparent in users once they hit the late twenties and their cores made it harder to identify accurate age - he just gave off the feel that he was older. Even wiser.

Something about him reminded Derek of Deaton. Not so much the danger, but the feel that this was someone who had answers.

This was someone in charge. This was exactly the sort of person people would follow, even Oni who tended not to want to follow any lead.

“That was a mistake,” the Sidhe growled to Derek and he raised an eyebrow at him.

“Didn’t feel like a mistake,” Derek replied.

Two minutes left.

“It was that damn Reaper that tipped you off, wasn’t it? It had to of been with the Stilinski Beholder blind.”

Then this guy really was the one responsible for Stiles’ capture. And he believed what practically anyone who knew anything about Beholders thought: that Stiles being blind meant his abilities were useless.

“Then why bother with him?” Derek asked. Maybe he could get the guy to say something he’d regret. So far he hadn’t said anything substantial.

“It’s him that’s faulty, not the core. And we’ve almost got our hands on an Ouroboros. I’m sure you’ve heard plenty about the last time Oni had one of those on our side. We nearly took out the entirety of the Devas. It’d be nice to get there again, really test the cut of our cores. I mean, a world without Devas. And if we get rid of them all, they won’t come back.”

Derek still considered this ambition inconsequential: plenty of Oni went for something drastic like taking out Devas. But his confidence in having a fix on an Ouroboros was concerning. That was what Derek would have to do something about.

“Enlighten me: how’d you find him and Murphy? You didn’t know to look for him; I made sure of it.”

Derek scoffed, mostly because the guy was asking about something they didn’t even have all the answers about. At least that meant that the tip that had been called in truly had nothing to do with Oni.

Didn’t mean he had to be honest about it. “Hell if I know. It wasn’t my division that took him out. And the Deva had a bit of an ego on him and decided to not share.”

“Doing our job for us with infighting?”

Derek smelled the charge of his Sidhe core and dove into a roll just as he swung both arms in a vertical sweep, the affected wind covering more distance with the difference in motion and Derek was still caught up in the gust and he was knocked off balance, twisting as he went down to try and recover a bit quicker and keep the Sidhe in his sights.

And he turned just as the Sidhe finished pulling a throwing knife from his belt and hurled it toward Derek, the knife shooting toward him like a bullet and he barely had the time to turn just enough that it caught him on a rib instead of getting past and catching him in the lungs. He growled as he was knocked even further back from the gust of concentrated wind that had propelled the knife at him so fast. He let himself fall all the way to the ground and went to pull the knife out with another growl of pain.

One minute left and he still couldn’t smell or hear any indication that Boyd and Scott or the other Berserker had the upper hand. Still nothing more than trace amounts of blood and constant sounds of strikes landing, cars being impacted, and groans of effort. Damnit, these guys had matched up against them well.

He pressed against his wound securely, needing to help clot the bleeding as his healing was already at work to fix the damage. He was surprised that the Sidhe didn’t follow up what had been a successful attack against him, but then wondered if he’d been running low on power. He was an Elemental, after all, and it took more power for them to accomplish the same results as a Dragon. And even though different cores had their own well of energy, switching between them could fatigue someone depending on the dispositions.

Some dispositions were just tougher on the body and both cores the Sidhe had shown were among those that took immense concentration to use.

He prodded his fingers at where his shirt was slit and felt the skin close enough that he shouldn’t bleed out and he could deal with the pain as it continued to heal.

Feeling that he’d given it enough time to be good enough to fight, Derek looked around to get eyes back on his opponents. And he caught the Sidhe next to the Dragon, kneeling down and pulling at the limp body to position him in close.

“This is easier when you’re helping,” Derek heard the Sidhe mutter. It looked like he was planning on getting them out of there, retreating.

He was about to stand and move in again when Derek had to suddenly cover his ears at the sudden firing of a gun, his hearing being at its most sensitive and not expecting the sound that he couldn’t help but growl at how it hurt and set his eardrums ringing.

One of the trace scents of blood increased, but it wasn’t one he was familiar with.

Stiles. Because of course he was carrying as he had been ever since they started working on shooting.

The ringing started to pass, his healing kicking in and taking care of the more minor damage faster. He opened his eyes and dropped his hands down and looked back toward the Sidhe, whose eyes were looking in the opposite direction of Derek, to where the gunshot had come from. He then turned back toward Derek, looking reasonably pissed.

“There are sometimes that you fucking Devas are more trouble than you’re worth,” he said in a low voice.

Derek couldn’t help but smirk, this guy’s anger an obvious sign of his weakness in the fight. He definitely hadn’t been prepared enough, though he’d come close. “None of my Devas carry. We did give Stilinski one, though.”

Derek wished he had a camera for the baffled expression he got from that.

“You actually gave a blind guy a gun? You’re insane!”

“Pretty sure I don’t want to hear that from an Oni. You destroyed a main highway an put dozens of innocent people in danger just to get at someone you’ve already kidnapped and held hostage for over a year.”

The man took a second and then barked out a laugh and Derek frowned, coiling his body to strike. “You’re entertaining at least. Do you know how many Devas I’ve dealt with that are just such sticks in the mud? You’ll be worth facing off against again. I look forward to it. Hale, right?”

Derek had half-expected the guy to know his name if he’d been following Stiles while he was under Deva protection. “And you are?” he didn’t expect an answer, but why not ask.

“It won’t do you any good to know it’s Hajime. I dropped off the grid ages ago.” He shifted the Dragon in his grip to free up an arm and Derek tensed to see how he’d attack.

The Sidhe, Hajime, brought his hand down low before he swung it straight up and the created wind kicked up a thick cloud of dust, engulfing the two of them even from Derek’s enhanced vision. And then he watched as the air within the dust started to shift for a few seconds’ buildup before it suddenly seemed to explode outward and Derek had to cover his face as the wind struck into him, feeling the bite of gravel chunks pierce through his shirt and cut at his skin. And then, despite his stable stance and extreme strength, he was knocked back by the force of the wind that followed, flying back easily ten feet before his back slammed into a windshield, the glass breaking and collapsing under his weight.

He groaned as he rolled himself forward and toppled off the side of the hood, landing on his knees as he took in deep breaths to shake off the impact.

He looked back over to where Hajime had been and sighed as he saw the man was gone. Damn Sidhe’s: no matter if they were Dragon or Elemental, most of them figured out how to throw themselves around like they could fly. The really talented ones figured out the more precise motions and timing of landing smoothly.

And Derek was feeling the strain on his own core. The accelerated healing was one of the very few abilities of a Shifter that was a drain to their power. And he’d taken a lot of hits, quite a few of them requiring significant healing. He let out a heavy breath, taking stock of what injuries were left. The stab wound would take the longest to heal and he was pretty sure that crash through the windshield had cracked a rib or two, which would likely take a few hours to mend.

It was the difference between a Regen’s healing and what his core did: no knowledge on his part was required to heal, he just had to let it happen and any injuries were basically erased from his body. The only wound that held the possibility of scarring was something life-threatening where the core was completely drained before the healing could be finished.

He thought back over what had happened at the end there and realized that he’d stopped paying attention to his internal clock of Boyd’s activation of his core at around forty seconds left. And he couldn’t be sure, but it seemed like he’d heard the gunshot after Boyd’s time would have been up and he’d be left practically unconscious from the complete drain of his core’s power.

Now that the majority of the threat was gone, Derek felt the tendrils of panic that he’d been pushing aside this whole time. Panic over not knowing anything about Stiles, Kira, and Lydia and then ending up leaving Boyd and Scott to fight on their own. There was too much he didn’t know and his instincts were screaming at him to get answers. He _had_ to know that everyone was alright.

He stood with a bit of a struggle, having to balance himself against the hood of the car he’d collided with and he paused there. He closed his eyes and decided he’d take a chance that this was over with and restored his usual control over his core, feeling his face and body return to normal without the connection. His hearing and smell dulled by about half to the level it was usually at and when he opened his eyes, he couldn’t see clearly for as far away. He was back to what was normal, still enhanced compared to other people, but not as strong as he was capable of.

Once the shift was complete, he felt his body lock up a bit as it also meant he wasn’t going to be healing as quickly, which was fine. He’d take being uncomfortable and recovering the strength of his core over letting it finish the process faster and have it become a strain to him.

He took a moment to take in his surroundings in their entirety, having been so focused before that he hadn’t bothered with the big picture.

The Titan had caused some serious damage. The road was in pieces for about twenty feet worth of concrete, the ground erupting through holes and cracks, the Titan obviously going for splitting the concrete and then using the more malleable dirt and rocks underneath to affect a larger area. At least two dozen cars were damaged, most of them knocked askew by the Titan compromising the ground underneath them.

At least it looked like civilians had managed to not get dragged into it and had gotten away.

He walked forward, following the lane of cars and making it about four car lengths, recognizing Boyd’s car in the far left lane two cars back, before he came into view of the initial destruction and he paused to take it in.

The ground had been forced up in a line across the length of the road, one car on the far side of the gash in the concrete having obviously been caught on the rear end where it destroyed the rear tires if not the axle. Another car had been thrown off the right side of the road and was laying on its side in the ditch.

Kira’s car – with Scott and Boyd working on getting the driver side door open – had obviously taken two hits. It had been timed right so that the car had hit the force of the blast head-on, based on the damage to the front end. And then Derek could see another smaller hole where her car would have been stopped and a sizeable boulder sitting off to the side: the Titan likely having used it to slam into the undercarriage of the car to flip it over, which is where it was now.

The Oni had really assumed that Stiles would survive that unscathed? Sure, Hajime was a Regen, but Regen’s only accelerated the body’s natural healing. Bones had to be reset before a Regen mended it; shrapnel had to be removed before they could heal the wound. There was no way Hajime could have guaranteed that he hadn’t just set Stiles up to die before getting his core. He’d seemed so calculated, like he was in charge for good reason and the reason wasn’t because he was the craziest in the room.

“Derek, help me!” Scott’s voice called to him urgently and he shook his head to focus himself to the task at hand. “Kira’s hurt badly! She won’t wake up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sincerely apologize for the cliffhanger. I try not to use them and was actually nearly finished with what will be the next chapter when it really occurred to me just how LONG it all was. Seriously, the next chapter is just a little longer than this one so it needed to be split up and this really was what felt like the right place to do it.  
> Two things with the mention of Ouroboros. First of all, an Ouroboros is a disposition that allows the user to transfer a core from one person to another. I think I've mentioned the disposition in passing in the fic but didn't include it in the glossary. And the Ouroboros Hajime is talking about is referencing Wataru Fujii from the other fic posted in the series "Mark of the Ouroboros" and there will be a little more detail about what happened there referenced in a later chapter so I won't go deeper into it now.  
> Thanks for reading and see you next time!


	13. Pieces

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Oni did a lot of damage in their attack, possibly more than the Devas did to them...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your continued enjoyment of the fic. Loved the comments I got on the last one!  
> Enjoy!

Derek moved at once hearing Scott call to him, running over next to the other Shifter. He glanced over at Boyd and saw how listless he was, the expected complete exhaustion from tapping into his core hitting him as hard as ever and he was struggling with all he had left to remain useful.

“Boyd, go sit down before you pass out. You couldn’t rip paper as you are now,” Derek instructed. Boyd gave him a frustrated look, which he just responded to with an even expression that relayed how he wasn’t going to budge on this. “The other Berserker is down, right?”

“Yeah, passenger side. He was losing so he tried to get the upper hand going for Stiles. Knocked out the window and took a bullet for his trouble.”

Derek pushed at Scott’s shoulder, moving him to the side so Derek could kneel down and look into the car. The window was cracked and that made it harder to see inside, but he could make out Kira’s outline curled up on the roof of the car. She either had been awake to take off her seatbelt or someone else in the car had let her out of it. He couldn’t see past her to the passenger side but he did lean over to look into the back seat then. It took him a few seconds to realize that she was at least semi-conscious. Her face was pinched like she was in pain even as she was curled up in the fetal position so it shouldn’t have been the cause.

But, most importantly, Derek was close enough and now concentrating so he realized that there were three heartbeats coming from inside the car. All beating at a rate that wasn’t normal, either too fast or too slow, but there were three and so all three of them were alive.

Stiles was alive.

“Derek, help me!” Scott demanded again as tried to get back at the door.

Derek stood up and turned toward Scott with an authoritative expression, more severe than the one he’d given Boyd. He couldn’t have the only one guaranteed to be fit for another fight if Hajime decided to come back or had reinforcements to send panicking and becoming useless.

“That’s enough, McCall!” he growled back and Scott startled back a bit. “I have no use for a Deva that can’t keep his shit together. Or did you even consider that the reason you can’t get a car door open is because you’re not thinking enough to focus on releasing the control you have over your strength. You’re a Shifter; act like it.”

Scott looked angry now. “Easy for you to say. You don’t care about her!”

The growl that Derek let out was the closest he’d ever sounded in his life to an actual animal and it appeared to catch Scott off-guard.

“You’re lucky I understand or I wouldn’t let that slide. Now, pull yourself together and get that fucking door open. Boyd is out of commission for at least an hour and I need to get to Stiles and Lydia. Or did you forget about them for the sake of a trained U.E.A. agent? Lydia is a civilian and Stiles is under our protection and the one this whole attack was targeting. I made sure a call was put in for backup before I joined the fight so we have help on the way. We just need to keep our heads out of our asses and do our job until they get here. Got it?”

Scott looked up at Derek and he let him take whatever time he needed. A few seconds extra now would be invaluable later, after all. And he noticed the exact instant what he said really registered with Scott as his jaw relaxed slightly and when he exhaled, it was deep and out of the corner of Derek’s eyes, he caught Scott’s hands opening from the fists they’d been held in.

Good, Scott was proving that he was gaining experience as a Deva, collecting himself quickly enough. And once he could do that without needing a reminder, he’d really have made some progress.

Derek reached out and grasped at Scott’s shoulder briefly. “Do you have it on this side?” he needed to hear Scott’s answer, give him one final check.

“Yeah. I can do this,” Scott replied and Derek believed him.

“Good. Try not to jostle the car too much getting that door off. They’ve already been thrown around enough and we don’t want to make any injuries worse.”

“I got it. The jaws of life ain’t nothing compared to me.”

Derek held back a response to that but did allow the thought that he’d been spending too much time around Stiles to even have the urge to shoot back some sarcastic comment in this situation.

He walked past Scott to go around the hood of the car to the passenger side, scenting the tinge of Shifter core discharge as he went and he allowed a small smile as he heard claws start to dig into the car and the metal groan at the sudden strain it was being put under.

Good for Scott.

The body of the Oni was sprawled out a few feet away from the car with a distinct trail of blood between the body and the glass from the broken passenger side window. Derek stepped to the body first, needing to check to make sure the threat was truly passed as far as the Berserker went.

He frowned as he was able to take in the injuries; Berserkers didn’t feel pain when they activated their core and could go on fighting until their hearts stopped no matter how many cuts or breaks their body had. And Boyd and Scott had dealt a beating to his guy. Right arm broken at the shoulder and elbow, left leg sprawled out at an angle that made Derek think the hip was out of the socket, deep gashes from claws down his right thigh and along his side curling toward his back. And there was no telling how many other injuries there were from blunt force trauma of taking strikes from a fully-powered Berserker of Boyd’s strength.

The gunshot had hit him in the neck, entering just to the side of the Adam’s apple and exiting out the back of the neck further from the spine. So, the shooter had waited for them to drop down next to the window and then had fired. It had likely nicked the artery and he’d definitely bled out before the rest of his injuries could kill him.

There was a loud groan of metal from the opposite side of the car and Scott let out a curse before it sounded like he hit the car.

Derek turned back toward the car and realized that he was putting off knowing for sure what shape Stiles was in. He was terrified for Stiles – had been all along – but he’d _had_ to push that aside to make sure they were all safe.

That would have been impossible if they’d had a formed affinity. He would have been unable to put anyone besides Stiles first and with a new affinity, his instincts and _need_ to protect Stiles would have made everyone and everything else moot. He would have pushed Boyd, Kira, Scott, and Lydia toward the Oni to get to Stiles and keep him safe.

They were lucky their affinity had been taking time to form.

Shaking off the lingering anxiety, Derek approached the passenger side door and kneeled down.

He crouched further toward the ground and peered in to the hole that had obviously been kicked into the glass. He saw Kira’s coiled body on the other side with the silhouette of Scott moving outside the window but didn’t see Stiles.

“Stiles?” he called out, his panic rising again because Stiles _had_ to be in there and Lydia had told him that he was sitting in the front.

He startled as there was a loud thump from inside the car and suddenly Stiles’ body dropped down onto the roof of the vehicle.

Derek was actually baffled by what he realized: Stiles had shoved himself up against the floor using the seat and the dashboard to hold his body there. Anyone who had come looking for him would have had the same confusion as Derek did while Stiles wouldn’t have revealed himself if it wasn’t a voice he recognized.

Stiles was full of surprises.

“Holy shit, Derek. Thank God it’s you,” Stiles said in a rush of words, sounding breathless. “I’m pretty sure I just destroyed one of my eardrums and I couldn’t tell for sure who was talking outside the car. Kira’s really hurt. I didn’t feel much blood but while she was awake, her breathing was shallow and I think I can hear gurgling from her now. She might have internal bleeding or a collapsed lung, something like that. Lydia’s been out of it too but I think she just hit her head.”

“Ok, just calm down for a second. What about you?” Derek asked as he took a closer look at the door to see if he’d be able to open it any easier than Scott.

“Did I give a list of ailments? I’m fine.” Stiles sounded frustrated, but Derek was also close enough that he could catch the uptick of his heartrate and noted the lie. He might not be in bad shape but he wasn’t unscathed.

And now that Derek was right next to the window and could smell how close each scent of blood was, he could connect it to the person the scent belonged to.

All three of them were bleeding, though the strongest scent was coming from Lydia. So either she just got a wound that was bleeding heavier than the others or she was more injured than Stiles was able to determine.

He tried the door handle, the latch releasing, but the bend in the metal made the door catch. Rolling his eyes, Derek slid his fingers into the gap and gave a solid yank, widening the gap, followed with a second and third pull to force the door.

They were probably lucky in many ways that Kira had a larger vehicle, that it gave the ones inside a bit more room to move around and the damage it had taken wasn’t immediately cutting in on their space.

The door creaked and groaned open and Derek moved into the gap. He heard Stiles fumbling around before feeling both hands on his arm and then they acted as a guide like usual for Stiles to step out and he wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck, hugging him fiercely. Derek paused for a second, not expecting the embrace, but then his arms wound around Stiles’ waist and he held him close.

He’d only added a little pressure to his embrace, his relief at feeling proof that Stiles was alive and mostly alright rising, when he felt Stiles’ breathing hitch and then he groaned quietly in pain. Derek pulled away slightly and brought his hand up to Stiles’ neck, touching his fingers to the skin above his shirt and tapped into his core.

 _This_ was the ability that drained the most power. He couldn’t draw out much pain, but that wasn’t what he was going for: when he drew pain, he got a sense of where the pain was coming from and what was wrong. Luckily it wasn’t something that required much practice and training – like memorizing scents had needed – because he didn’t do it very often. He was sure it had been over a year since the last time he’d used it with another Deva while they were stuck waiting for medical care.

Stiles’ skin changed color as his power reached into his body, veins of black spreading out across his body from where Derek touched him, the same black tendrils rising on Derek’s hand and forearm.

At least two broken ribs on the left side. Other than that, it was pretty superficial: bruising, plenty of swelling from impacts, and inflammation of the ear canal. But no damage to organs, no punctures from the busted ribs though Derek was sure that once the adrenaline passed, Stiles would be a lot less mobile.

He leaned in and gave Stiles a firm but brief kiss on the lips before he pulled lightly on his hand to urge him away from the car. Stiles followed the lead, moving away from the door to sit behind Derek a few feet away from the car so he had room to move around.

“Let me get Lydia out,” Derek said to make sure Stiles knew what was going on. He glanced to the other side of the car and saw that Scott had gotten the driver side door open and was trying to maneuver Kira out without risking hurting her more. Derek needed to hurry with Lydia so he could help check Kira.

He pushed at the door to open it as wide as he could before he moved to where he was just outside the vehicle. He reached up to pull at the lever on the seat, pushing at the seat back to recline it as far as he could to get more room to move, grateful that it went easily. He stepped onto the roof of the car at a low crouch and moved carefully around the broken glass and uneven footing because of damage from the impact of being flipped.

Lydia was facing away from him, but her head was pointed toward him. He worked his way through her hair to find her neck and then her pulse, which was strong. He left his hand in place and again reached for his ability to pull pain.

The most predominant injury was a concussion, a pretty bad one but one that a Regen would easily be able to fix. Right wrist broken in a few places, left wrist sprained badly, like she’d caught an impact on her hands alone. Some bruising around her ribs, probably from the seatbelt, but nothing else broken. That was good; she really wasn’t too badly hurt and treatment would be easy enough to get her back to good health.

He slid a little closer so he could get his arms under her and started pulling her toward him out of the car, saying a quiet “Sorry, Lydia, I know this hurts,” to her once he got her closer to him. He worked his way out slowly and carefully, doing his best not to jostle her any more than he had to.

He stepped out onto the concrete and then backed out all the way, dragging Lydia out enough that he could hook his arm under her knees while the other supported her back to lift her as he stood. He glanced to his side where Stiles was still sitting, his eyes closed and his face pinched with concentration.

“Lydia’s mostly okay. Some minor injuries and a concussion. Nothing the Regen won’t be able to handle once emergency services get here,” Derek explained and Stiles’ face fell with his sigh of relief. “I’m going to bring her to the other side of the car and put her with Boyd. Do you want to grab on and I’ll lead you to him too?”

Stiles rolled his eyes and gave him a flat look, though he wasn’t as close to looking at him as he normally got. “Nah, I’ll just stay over here and keep an eye out for more Oni with my perfectly non-functioning eyeballs.”

“I thought your eyes worked just fine, that it was the nerves that didn’t function,” Derek shot back and was happy to see he caught Stiles off=guard. The other man froze and frowned a little before he let out a heavy sigh.

“Sorry,” he muttered, embarrassed, which Derek hadn’t expected from him. Stiles didn’t really get embarrassed; he owned up to the kind of person he was and powered through his less flattering personality traits, basically telling people with his actions that he was who he was and he wasn’t going to put on airs for their sake.

Was he that bothered by the attack when it had been his idea to do this? Or had he really thought that just them knowing about Lydia’s feeling of death approaching one of them was enough to keep it from happening? Or was there something else Derek didn’t know about?

“Don’t worry about it,” he responded smoothly enough. He stepped closer to Stiles and stood there for a few seconds before Stiles reached out and touched his leg to get a feel for his location. He stood up slowly, obviously trying to not let any pain show even though moving had to suck with the busted ribs.

Once Stiles was standing and had taken a few extra shallow breaths to center himself, Derek leaned forward, curling around Lydia’s body so that he could touch his forehead to Stiles’, the other man startling at the sudden contact but relaxing quickly enough.

“Don’t worry,” he repeated.

“Be happy?” Stiles replied, but Derek caught the familiar joking tone, even if it was a little flat and forced.

“If you must,” Derek said just before he angled his head to kiss Stiles on the corner of the mouth before he moved away and waited for Stiles to rest his hand on his shoulder so he could lead him around the car.

When he came around the end of the car, his eyes were immediately drawn to where Scott was holding Kira close to him, her torso resting across his lap as he hugged her. He tried not to get worried about how pale she looked and turned his attention to where Boyd was sitting with his back against a nearby car, his head leaning back against it and very likely close to unconsciousness.

But as Derek walked closer, Boyd proved his capability by opening his eyes once it was clear someone was approaching him and looked ready to fight. Once he saw it was Derek with Lydia and Stiles, he relaxed back against the car again, but kept his eyes open and on Derek. Derek kneeled down next to Boyd, the Berserker shrugging out of his jacket and then folded it up to lay it on the ground next to him so Derek could rest Lydia’s head on it, giving her that little bit of comfort.

“She’s concussed pretty badly, so just knocked out still. Stiles is mostly alright, just a few broken ribs, a busted ear drum, and his winning personality.”

Stiles sat down on the ground next to Derek, the taller man getting the feeling he’d wanted to be more dramatic about the act but was limited by pain. Derek wished he had more power to spare and was guaranteed they were safe so he could drain some.

“Excuse me, my personality is winning and fabulous. The busted ribs, not so much.” Then his expression got thoughtful and he frowned toward Derek. “How’d you know they were broken?”

“What, were you planning on hiding it?” Derek replied smoothly enough as he stood, briefly running a hand through Stiles’ hair as he stepped around him. “You two stick together with Lydia. I need to see to Kira.”

“Right. Send Scott over here with his phone if you have to,” Boyd said before he got too far away.

Derek stepped up next to Scott and kneeled down next to him, reaching out to briefly grasp the younger man’s shoulder. Scott didn’t acknowledge him at all for a few seconds. And when he did look over to Derek, his expression was so…defeated and Derek didn’t know what to do about that. Scott didn’t give up. He was ridiculously stubborn and usually Derek was struggling to teach him to learn when he needed to back off. But now it was like he’d gone to the opposite extreme and wasn’t even trying, like all his effort had gone into getting her out and he had nothing left.

Derek moved his hand to Kira’s forehead and rested his palm along her skin before he tapped into his core and the black veins rose on his skin.

Shit, Kira really was in danger. She had a couple broken ribs and one had punctured her lungs. And it must have happened in the initial crash for the amount of damage that had been done and how much internal bleeding he was picking up on. She already wasn’t getting enough air and now that he was looking, he saw the blue tinge to her lips and her fingers.

“Scott, you have your phone, right? It didn’t get broken?” Derek asked, trying to remain calm and collected even as he felt himself worry that they were going to lose Kira if they didn’t get help soon. Draining her pain wouldn’t do any good with the injuries she had. It might actually make it worse if she woke up because of the relief and ended up hurting herself more.

“Yeah, I have it still. What’s wrong with her, Derek?” Scott asked and Derek wished Scott didn’t know about his ability to sense the injury.

But he did know and if Derek didn’t answer him, he wouldn’t cooperate and focus like Derek needed him to.

“She’s got a punctured lung. I need to call the emergency responders and get an ETA on them, let them know what they’ll be treating so they’re ready to help her. Just hand over your phone and I’ll take care of it so you can stay with her. She’d want you to be with her.”

“Don’t you fucking talk like she’s going to die!” Scott exclaimed as he glared up at Derek.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Derek bit back with more authority and Scott recoiled at the tone. As another Shifter and one who had awakened instead of being born, Scott’s instincts would respect Derek’s authority, especially since Scott seemed to be fine with Derek holding authority over him. “I’m doing what I can to help her. And I just know if I were hurt, I’d want someone I care about to be the one with me.” Scott’s eyes glanced over Derek’s shoulder to where Stiles was and then looked back to Derek, who gave a slight nod of assent. He needed to be honest if Scott was going to listen.

Scott looked at him for another few seconds before he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone and handed it to Derek before wrapping his arm back around Kira and held her.

Derek had just started dialing for emergency services through the Deva lines when he heard Kira’s heartrate spike and she was suddenly gasping, struggling against Scott’s hold as she tried to get in oxygen.

Damnit, either her lung had collapsed or the internal bleeding was drowning her.

“Kira!” Scott cried out to her, but he did manage to remember basic first aid and he moved her off his lap and laid her on her side in the recovery position in hopes of her being able to cough up any blood and help clear her lungs.

“Boyd! Call it in,” Derek called to the other Deva, turning to make sure Boyd was looking his way before tossing the phone to him, Stiles looking panicked even as Boyd had reached out to him and held his arm probably to keep him there as much as offer comfort.

“Breathe Kira! Please breathe!” Scott was repeating to her now, one hand running over her knotted hair as his other made sure she stayed on her side.

He was crying.

It might not be what she needed right now, but it might help, Derek decided as he grabbed onto her hand and black veins rose on both of their hands and arms and he started pulling the pain from her instead of merely sensing where it was coming from.

He had to gasp, feeling like he wasn’t getting enough oxygen because that was the biggest problem with Kira now, that was causing her the most pain as her body failed from not getting what it needed. The punctured lung was secondary to not being able to circulate the oxygen. There was such a small amount of relief that he understood almost immediately that he wasn’t going to do her any good with this.

But that didn’t mean he should stop. It still offered a little relief to her and he could see blood dripping at a steady pace out of the corner of her mouth. As long as she was coughing, she was breathing and she was getting at least _some_ oxygen.

“Breathe. Just breathe. That’s it. Breathe. You got it, Kira,” Scott was muttering, leaning over so he was speaking right into her ear.

It wasn’t helping though. Her body was failing and she wasn’t going to last much longer. She needed medical attention immediately or they’d lose her. Derek knew that much from how her body felt through the pain drain. There was less pain to pull because her body was losing sensation.

A new scent caught Derek’s attention and he looked up and around for an ambulance approaching: he knew the scent of a Regen core, having been around plenty through his life and career. But no one was approaching and he had to inhale again before he realized what exactly he was smelling.

“Breathe, Kira. Just breathe,” Scott repeated and Derek let go of Kira’s hand, the black veins fading on both of their arms and then he watched as the blue tint of Kira’s fingers became less prominent, fading to indicate that more oxygen was circulating.

The Regen power was coming from Scott.

A second core had awakened in Scott, a Regen core. It had formed and awakened in response to Kira’s distress and it was likely that Scott didn’t even realize he was doing anything. But, in reality, he was keeping her alive longer. He wasn’t healing the damage – he couldn’t without knowing anatomy as well as a surgeon – but the Regen power was allowing her body to circulate the necessary oxygen, using the one remaining healthy lung to do the job enough that organs didn’t keep dying off.

Derek couldn’t do anything to break Scott out of this. He couldn’t acknowledge that it was happening or Scott’s brain would get in the way of his instincts, the instincts that were the only thing keeping Kira from suffocating.

So, Derek reached back out to take Kira’s hand and continued pulling pain even as he felt his own exhaustion start to rise quickly. He wouldn’t be able to do this much longer for the sake of his own safety and recovery from his injuries. The dispersal of the pain he was pulling from Kira wasn’t as efficient because he had his own injuries and if he kept taking it, what he took in could actually cause damage in him, and that didn’t heal very well.

He lost track of time, not worrying about it for the sake of focusing on what was important: making sure Kira stayed alive and Scott helped keep her that way. He knew that Boyd would be gradually recovering some of his strength, the balance for Berserkers being in that their power was completely drained when accessed but it did recover enough for basic functionality relatively quickly. He would have no endurance in a fight until he slept, but he could manage staying awake.

And Stiles wasn’t in horrible shape and could protect himself so he could risk lowering his guard to see to Kira, to keep his friend alive.

So, when emergency services arrived, Derek wasn’t really sure how long the two of them had been focused solely on Kira. He did know that it was gradually becoming not enough and she was still slipping away, but that would change now. He heard the sirens approaching and tracked their distance even as he eased off drawing Kira’s pain so he could have some semblance of awareness and focus when the ambulance arrived. It was still another few minutes and the ambulance came from their side of the road, driving the wrong direction to reach them, which wasn’t too surprising. Traffic was backed up for likely miles by now in both directions but was clear in front of them. The ambulance followed immediately by fire engines and cop cars, then there was a pair of unmarked vehicles which would likely be Deva support, pulled up to the split in the road before people unloaded and came to meet them.

Derek caught the paramedics before they reached Scott and Kira and informed them of not only her injuries, but also of Scott’s newly awakened Regen core and how he was subconsciously treating her. They nodded understanding, two of them Regens while the third was human – a usual combination for an ambulance crew – and they walked past him toward Kira. They could handle this.

A cop walked up toward him and he shifted his attention.

“There is another ambulance about a mile back and should be here soon. May I see identification?” he asked. They’d come knowing the situation was one involving Oni and Devas so he just had to make sure he knew who he was dealing with.

Derek reached into his pocket and dug out his ID, showing it to the man as he declared, “I’m Deva Senior Derek Hale. All the Devas here are under my command. Present is Adept Vernon Boyd, Initiate Scott McCall, Agent Kira Yukimura, civilian consultant Lydia Martin, and under our protection is Stiles Stilinski.” Derek was indicating as he identified, making it clear that this was completely a Deva matter even as he didn’t dismiss the police’s presence. And this officer at least seemed to take it that way easily enough, which wasn’t really a surprise considering he obviously wasn’t a newbie. He’d likely had to hand over situations to Devas and agents before.

Instead, as he looked around and saw the state they were all in – and Derek admitted it probably wasn’t an encouraging sight – and he seemed concerned. “You guys look like you took a beating.”

Derek allowed a shrug. “‘Deva’ doesn’t mean ‘easy’. The Oni were well organized and strong. But there’s one on the other side of that car, dead. Two others escaped but weren’t in good shape.” He didn’t mind telling details to the police: they had every right to know that there were dangerous people in the area to watch out for. “I’ll make sure you get descriptions so you can let us know if they show up in your area.”

“Alright.” The officer looked around again, his eyes pausing on where two of the paramedics were crowding around Kira and Scott, getting her treatment that would hopefully save her, then looking over to where Boyd was sitting next to Stiles talking to him in low tones while a third paramedic checked Lydia over. “I’ll get that later, let you clear things up here.”

“Thanks. It should just take a few minutes to get things settled so we can get our statements to you.”

“Take your time.”

Derek nodded and reached out to shake the man’s hand, appreciating the consideration, then turned toward Boyd and Stiles. He took in a deep breath and then walked over to them, Boyd looking his way once he got close.

“Well, you look like hell,” he said to Derek, though Derek suspected that had just been to let Stiles know that someone familiar was approaching.

“Good, it makes such a better statement than looking like I just stepped out of a jacuzzi,” Derek replied as he kneeled down next to Stiles, resting his hand on his shoulder, which Stiles reached up and took in his hand to hold tightly.

Stiles’ heartrate was racing and his breathing was off, labored like he’d been running and Derek frowned. Was he just nervous because there was so much going on around him and he couldn’t see it?

“Stiles? What is it?” he asked, pulling at Stiles’ shoulder to turn him to face Derek more directly.

“Nothing. Not a thing. No big deal.” Stiles gasped back even as his breathing became more strained.

Derek remembered in Stiles’ records that had been sent to them there had been a note about him suffering panic attacks. They had started after his mom’s death and had gotten really bad when he lost his vision.

He put out such confidence that Derek just hadn’t been able to imagine him having an issue like that. And that was even after he knew how good Stiles was at deflecting people from knowing his vulnerabilities. And his record had also shown that they’d improved over the past few years as he became more accustomed to his blindness.

Give him something external to focus on, Derek remembered reading somewhere.

He moved the hand Stiles was holding onto him with and placed it over his face, Stiles’ long fingers extended over his mouth and nose so he could feel Derek breathing. Then Derek took Stiles’ other hand and rested it over his heart and took in a deliberately slow and deep breath. Once his lungs were full, he instructed Stiles, “Follow my breathing Stiles. Deep inhale, hold, deep exhale, pause. You’ve done this before.”

Basic breathing exercises that pretty much everyone with any official training with a core knew a variation of.

“Love to. Can’t.” Stiles gasped, giving Derek a look that jumped between irritated and pleading. “Broken ribs…make it tough.”

Derek understood the irritation and wanted to cuss at himself. “Do what you can, Stiles. Hold when you get in as much as you can, hold once you’ve exhaled.” He gave a pause and a few measured breaths of his own for Stiles to latch onto the rhythm of before adding, “Or I’ll just have the Regen come over and knock you out.”

“Ha ha,” Stiles bit back sarcastically, but there was a hint of relief there.

He leaned forward and Derek angled his head so that their foreheads would touch. He wanted to start pulling any pain Stiles was in to help him, but he knew he was close to being out of strength and he needed to be able to get back to work.

Screw it, he decided as Stiles kept gasping, and the lines around his eyes pinched with pain. He could help Stiles and he goddamn well would.

He moved one hand from holding Stiles’ to press against Stiles’ neck, then slid a little lower to push his fingers under the line of his shirt, closer to the injury. He reached for the power of his core, tapping into the little bit he had left and closed his eyes so he wouldn’t watch the black veins appear, so he could just feel.

Once he started feeling the pain draw through his hand and spread through his own body, he looked back at Stiles to see some relief on his expression and noticed how he was able to take in deeper breaths. Good, he could help this pass enough for Stiles to regain his calm and be okay until there was a Regen to spare to treat him.

But he only had a minute or two left before his power gave out; it was already a struggle to keep the flow of pain drawing into him.

Derek took in a deep breath, trying to keep himself focused as much as he was remaining a guide to Stiles.

That was when he scented something that he should have noticed before: Stiles’ core was still drawing in his discharge, still working to establish their affinity. What if he tried drawing off of that instead of his own core? Affinities were formed through the discharge of unused power from cores that was dispelled through the user’s body so it was still his power. Sure, it would likely make them start from scratch on the affinity forming, but if it helped now, that’s what mattered. And they’d know why there was a holdup this time around.

Decided just as easily as he had so far today in doing everything he could to help his friends, Derek reached his right hand to the back of Stiles’ neck, then slid it to lay flat along the left side of his head where it could be close to Stiles’ core where the power was gathering. He reached out where he could smell the gathering of his power and felt it respond to his command as it would if it were still in his body.

But as it started to flow back into him, immediately making it easier to draw the pain and disperse it into his own body, he realized that his own power wasn’t all that was coming. Discharge from Stiles’ core that was usually reaching to him and being accepted was following the flow as well and he could feel it doing something, feel something change in that transfer.

He took in another deep breath, trying to take in enough of the scent to figure out what was going on when the scent shifted and he understood.

He’d reached for the power Stiles’ core had accepted to form an affinity. But Stiles’ core hadn’t given up the power; it had held on and had let itself be used to help Derek help Stiles. It had made it so there was more than discharge interacting, but active abilities and that had made all the difference. The power of their cores had intertwined with that.

He’d just accidentally formed an active affinity between them.

Derek could feel Stiles relaxing, not through the sense of his ability to draw pain but he just knew that Stiles was moving past the panic attack, that he was able to breathe smoother and his heartrate was slowing down, then exhaustion was hitting him and he was resting heavily against Derek even as Derek eased off how much pain he was taking and Stiles become more aware of his injuries again.

They were silent for easily a few minutes, Derek aware of Boyd having moved away and giving his statement to the police and Devas, allowing them privacy. After all, the first few hours after an affinity formed were dangerous for other people, especially if one of the cores had strong protective instincts; like a wolf Shifter core.

Hopefully Derek’s exhaustion would help him from getting too aggressive with anyone getting close to Stiles. Or at least he could keep it at a low enough level that he would only get "growly" - as Stiles would definitely put it - with people and they would understand.

“Are you serious? That’s all it took?” Stiles muttered against him and Derek’s arm moved away from Stiles’ chest to wrap around his shoulders in a loose embrace.

Derek pressed his lips to Stiles’ cheek briefly before he replied in a low voice, “Could you not make it sound like that’s something we’ve ever done before?”

“You do know that both people using their abilities in close proximity to each other is about the easiest way to get an affinity to actually take hold, don’t you?”

“It’s a shortcut, not the easiest. And it usually doesn’t make for stable connections.” Derek felt like he was scolding Stiles and Stiles huffed at him like that’s what he’d been doing.

It was…a pretty normal exchange for them to make and that helped.

“I don’t like this one; he’s mean to me. Can I trade it in for a new model?” Stiles retorted and Derek smiled at the familiar chide Stiles liked to use.

“Should have made that request weeks ago,” Derek said as he pressed one more brief kiss to Stiles’ cheek.

Then Boyd was walking over to him, holding out his phone and looking more than a little worried. He kneeled down next to Derek and said in a low voice, “It’s Argent. I gave him all I could but I know I’m missing details. You’re up.”

Derek nodded and took the phone as Stiles sat up but shifted position so he could stay close to Derek, likely feeling the urge from his own side of the affinity.

There was plenty that he needed to detail for Chris, but he already knew what he _needed_ to tell him. So he held the phone up to his ear and took in a deep breath to say, “This is Derek. Scott McCall is a Chimera. He no longer qualifies to be a Deva.”

He figured the silence that lasted a good fifteen seconds from Chris Argent was just about the perfect response to that news and it matched the stunned expression he got from Boyd.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My writing process is pretty much that I have a few specific details that I have planned but just let things happen to get there. A lot of what happened in this chapter represents some of those specific details and there are even a few that'll be revealed next chapter. On the other hand, Derek helping Stiles through a panic attack like he did and that being what kicks of their affinity was just something that happened.  
> Either way, I'll admit that I love so much about this chapter. Hope you do too. ^_^  
> See you next week as we really look at wrapping up the fic. Thank you !


	14. Reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chris follows up with Derek and Stiles about the attack...

The end of the day looked completely different than it had at the beginning.

Lydia’s concussion had been treated but she was being kept at the infirmary at the Deva’s building overnight to make sure she finished her recovery well and would be undergoing a core evaluation in the morning – head injuries always meant a check of the core, especially ones that were centered in the brain.

Boyd was in another bed in the infirmary to sleep and recharge his core, though it had been his choice to stay there instead of going home.

Kira had been treated, though was at the hospital for the next few days of her recovery. The damage to her ribs and lungs would be healed in three sessions and she would be kept under until all the healing was finished.

Scott was with Kira, his own status pending a formal update which was waiting full reports and a core evaluation on him.

Stiles’ eardrum had been healed and his ribs had been set and mostly healed up, Stiles only letting the Regens do so much before he didn’t let them touch him anymore, reminding Derek of when he’d mentioned that he didn’t like Regens healing him, that he preferred to let his body do it naturally.

And Derek’s own injuries had completely healed by now. He still had bruises all over him – a blend of the damage from being thrown around so much as well as from all the pain he’d taken from Kira and Stiles – and was sore as hell, mostly from drawing in pain. His core had managed to regain some power, but it would be slow-going until he slept.

And there was officially an affinity between him and Stiles, confirmed in the exam by the Regen who treated them and in their official report likely already on Chris Argent’s desk.

At least they were still officially off duty, Derek noted sardonically. Hell, he and Boyd would be kept off duty for the next two days because of the injuries and drain on their cores.

Devas liked to play it safe when it came to recovery.

But because there were still reports to be made, Derek and Stiles weren’t cleared to leave yet. And, honestly, Derek expected that they’d also be required to stay at the Deva facility as people decided to play it safe now that there was a confirmed threat against Stiles, a threat that had just caused significant damage leading to about half a dozen injuries to civilians besides those who had been involved in the fight.

At least the only death had been an Oni, Derek had to keep reminding himself.

The two of them had been placed in one of the waiting rooms, one with windows and couches and the illusion of being comfortable while still being as secure as any other room in the facility. But at least they tried when there weren’t many comfortable places in the entire building and they had to keep Stiles and Derek together because of the newly formed affinity. If they’d been separated, they’d become anxious and that wasn’t what they needed when they were both recovering from injury. And Derek’s more protective instincts might make him bust down doors trying to find Stiles simply because he knew he was hurt.

They were asked to remain here while Chris tried to get some answers about a couple things that had happened and didn’t want to have to track them down to relay information once he had it. And Derek also suspected that the protective instincts of the Valkyrie were coming out and the Master was making sure everyone who was now confirmed safe stayed that way.

But being in the same room now was only making it more obvious that something was seriously wrong. Stiles was quiet. Stiles was still. That just didn’t happen if he was fine. The problem was that Derek didn’t know how to ask Stiles what had happened between the highway and the Deva facility. An affinity didn’t just make everything magically easier, no matter what people said. No, it just meant that they were hyperaware of each other sitting across the room, Derek on the windowsill looking out over the nearby buildings and streets while Stiles lay on one of the couches with his arms folded over his face to keep his face hidden. And Derek knew from his heartbeat and breathing that Stiles was awake so he couldn’t even use that as a possible reason.

No, there was just something wrong and he had no idea what the hell it could be.

Derek heard footsteps approaching the door, despite the room being soundproof he had that little restraint put on his hearing, and he turned toward the door and waited for it to open, unsurprised when it was Chris who stepped through the door, closing it behind him. He looked between the two of them and Derek knew he wasn’t mistaking the frown of concern.

Yeah, they’d both showered but they still had to look horrible in addition to the obvious awkward feel between them, especially for a Valkyrie who was good at reading body language.

Chris apparently decided to let Stiles be and walked a bit closer to Derek, but he kept his voice at a normal volume so it wasn’t like he was trying to keep Stiles from hearing what was said.

“I feel like I have to ask: were we good or were we lucky?” he began.

That was a really shitty way to begin. “It’s hard to say. It certainly wasn’t easy getting them to retreat. But then I feel like we might have actually taken them out if Kira hadn’t been injured,” he answered honestly. After all, he’d had nothing but time to mull over everything. “Then again, if we hadn’t been following along like we had, they would have taken Stiles back and we did catch them by surprise.”

“I guess that’s something. And Kira is still alive and will make a full recovery, and that is certainly a success.”

Derek hesitated, but had to ask, “And Scott?”

Chris pinched the bridge of his nose as he let out a heavy sigh. “Presence of two cores has been confirmed, a Shifter core in his heart and a Regen core in the left hemisphere of his brain. His files and status have been updated to reflect he is a Chimera. And the Deva Prominents aren’t willing to speed up the process of reviewing the allowance of Chimeras into the Devas for the sake of one person. As the policies currently stand, he is no longer eligible to be a Deva.”

Derek _knew_ that, he really did. So, why was he so disappointed? He’d heard rumors that the Prominents were conducting studies and running evaluations of Chimeras to determine if they were truly stable and powerful enough to keep up with the high standards of the Devas. But they could be anywhere from a few months to a few years away from change that would allow Scott to be accepted back into the Devas.

“I’ve already spoken with the agent in charge of the division here, the one Kira reports to, and she said she’d be happy to accept his application. They’ve already heard that he became a Chimera saving Kira’s life.”

“That’s not the problem, Chris, and you know it. If you’d seen him out there, you’d know it doesn’t make him any less of a Shifter just because he’s a Regen as well. The Prominents dropped the ball on this a long time ago and we’re going to suffer the loss because they dragged their feet. You don’t see the Oni telling people they can’t come along because they’re Chimera.”

“None of us are happy about this, Derek. But we need to maintain a united front against the Oni or we’ll fall apart. Scott isn’t the first Deva to become a Chimera and we shouldn’t be surprised that he awakened a Regen core considering his mom is one. Exposure increases likelihood in family members, even if it’s by a margin of less than ten percent; you know that.”

“That’s just assigning numbers to try and make sense of something we don’t understand.”

“Senior Hale, I understand your feelings about this since I share them. But I’d remind you that I am not the person to take your frustrations out on. If you can’t allow us to move on for the moment, I’ll have to come back later.”

All Derek had really needed was to be called by his rank to remind him where he needed to draw the line right now. He could obsess and criticize this later.

Derek took in a deep breath and let it out slowly to calm himself. “Fine. What about the Sidhe, Hajime? Were you able to find anything about him?”

“I’m not sure if this is luck or not, but we have one report from Japan about twenty months ago. He attacked a civilian and gave his name, much like he gave to you. The report was filed by a pair of U.E.A. agents over there who investigated. I was going to ask Kira if she knew them once she’s up again. But, honestly, he wasn’t wrong about it not doing us much good. Two reports in close to that many years is nothing to go on and that’s all we have on him. We were able to add that he is a Chimera, but that’s all.”

“We’ve learned some things besides that. He had alliances with other Oni. The Titan involved in the attack is someone he’s close to. He’s targeting rare cores to increase the power of the people he’s allied with. He doesn’t currently have an Ouroboros to use to transfer cores between people but he has one targeted. And Stiles being with the Devas is what’s protecting him. He attacked now because Stiles was only with one agent and a civilian. And he may not have known that Lydia was a user. That’s way more than we had yesterday.”

Chris looked like he wanted to argue, the muscles of his jaw clenching before he continued on. “You’re saying you just want Stiles assigned to Deva protective detail indefinitely?”

“It’s not like much can be done to deny it now that an affinity has formed. That alone means he can’t be made to go anywhere away from me, especially in the first few months of it forming.”

“What did the trick?” Chris asked, not unexpectedly.

“The connection took hold when I was draining his pain from his injury to bring him down from a panic attack.”

“Self-sacrifice. Not always the best thing for a core to respond to.”

Stiles suddenly sat up and sent a glare toward Chris, the direction of his gaze almost right on point to where he was. It usually wasn’t that accurate once he was more than a few feet away. “That’s not what it was about!” he exclaimed and Chris turned toward him in shock.

Though Stiles was lucky that didn’t get a knife thrown at his head or something if he’d really startled Chris.

“Mr. Stilinski, while I appreciate you standing up for the affinity, it’s not necessary. There’s usually something that the cores feed strongly off of, something that is important to the relationship.”

“Well, it sure as hell isn’t self-sacrifice. I mean, yeah, Derek obviously wouldn’t hesitate to put himself at risk for someone else. He’s a Deva who took in my sorry ass because there _might_ have been a threat to me. But I’m not actually a fan of him doing that, especially because I love him. But he tried to draw back the discharge that my core had already accepted for the affinity since he was running out of power. My core decided not to let him go like that. Ergo, connection was made and because he was pulling pain from the one he had an affinity with, it didn’t drain his power. Affinity abilities 101 means he can draw my pain without it draining his power. Which is definitely for the best because I run into everything.”

Derek was grateful that Chris’ focus was completely on Stiles because he knew the shocked look he was giving the younger man would have gotten some comment from the Deva Master.

Stiles had just said he loved him. They hadn’t exchanged those declarations yet. He wasn’t sure how he felt about it happening like that regardless of the warmth that spread throughout his chest.

An affinity meant nothing to hearing it confirmed in their own words.

“I apologize for the mistake,” Chris replied simply and Derek wondered if Stiles would have tried to punch him if he’d been closer, damn his disposition. Stiles was reckless enough to have tried for being talked down to like that.

As it was, Chris just ended up on the receiving end of the darkest look Derek had ever seen from Stiles, made even more impressive by how he had used the conversation to adjust his eye gaze and his eyes were pointed directly at Chris now.

But then it was almost like the fight was just gone from Stiles and he let out a heavy sigh and laid back down, turning so his back was facing the room. “Whatever. You don’t get it so why bother arguing.”

“Mr. Stilinski, you need to understand the position this puts us in. We’ve lost one Deva to the awakening of another core to make him a Chimera and now one of our Deva Seniors, the one who is responsible for much of the daily operation of the division, is limited on the assignments he can take on because of this affinity. You can’t be sent out with him on assignments as a consultant with your blindness, no matter how capable you are becoming. You’d be a perpetual liability to him. In the span of half an hour, I lost the resource of two strong and capable Devas that I now have to replace. Furthermore, we have a confirmed threat of one Oni acting to unite others toward a common goal that we only know includes you but not why. Forgive me if this makes me not so willing to cater to your nuances.”

Stiles exploded to his feet, grabbing one of the cushions from the back of the couch and throwing it at Chris, the Valkyrie having to step out of the way as it headed directly toward him. “Yeah, well, excuse me for thinking a Chimera Scott was better than a dead Kira!” There was a second’s pause, then Stiles yelled a short “FUCK!”

And Derek didn’t blame him. Besides his own surprise at the revelation, he was more concerned that this meant he would have to tell Chris he was a Beholder. There was no way Chris would allow him to remain silent about it after saying something like that.

And Chris’ eyes narrowed in suspicion as he crossed his arms, looking every bit the authority figure he was. But his voice remained low as he asked, “Care to elaborate on that?”

“Not really!” Stiles yelled back as he turned and walked away from them, turning the corner at the couch and approaching the wall a few feet behind it, stopping just far enough away that he could slam his hand against the wall. Then he stepped forward once more so his head thumped against the wall and he remained there.

And now Derek was suspicious as well, but for completely different reasons. Stiles hadn’t walked the room, hadn’t bothered to get a floor plan in his head. He’d just followed Derek in and then dropped on the couch when Derek passed it. Derek had assumed that he’d just felt it when he’d walked by but now he wasn’t so sure there wasn’t something else going on. He knew Stiles was still blind: his eyes were still unresponsive to changes in light and he still didn’t focus on things accurately right off the bat.

Maybe…

Chris took a cautious step closer to Stiles, speaking in a calm voice, “Stiles?”

“Ooh, first name that I actually go by instead of butchering my legit first name. Now I’m getting all the warm fuzzies.”

Chris sighed and turned toward Derek with a flat expression.

Derek crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at the look. “What? If you want to talk down to him, assume he’s stupid, be my guest. Just don’t expect anything productive in return.” He thought that was about the most helpful thing he could have said here. After all, he still believed that Stiles’ disposition was his alone to reveal, that Derek didn’t have the right to tell anyone what it was unless Stiles asked him to outright.

“I’m not talking down to him,” Chris defended.

“Definitely don’t talk like he’s not in the room,” Derek added and he glanced over to Stiles as he saw him turn around to lean his back against the wall instead. “He’s blind; not deaf or dumb. And he’s certainly not mute.”

At least that got a little smile out of Stiles.

“It was the night you woke me up,” Stiles said and it took a few seconds for Derek to realize that he was talking to him and not Chris and then another second to figure out what he was referring to.

Thinking back to what Stiles had said, Stiles had described what happened when his core was activated while asleep very vaguely, had left as much up to Derek’s interpretation as he could get away with. And Derek realized now that he had assumed Stiles hadn’t seen anything forward, at least nothing of concern.

He really should have known better. Stiles was a manipulator and if he wanted to keep something secret, he did by leading the conversation in a way that wasn’t suspect.

“I was on a loop of possibilities and most of them ended up with someone dead. This Hajime guy is patient but the people working with him aren’t. I never saw exactly what might happen, but the only one I felt out that didn’t end up with someone dead was when Scott awakened a second core.”

Stiles went quiet and Derek glanced over to Chris to see the stunned expression on his face.

“You’re a…” he stalled out and Derek raised an eyebrow in amusement. “You’re a Beholder. That’s why the Oni have targeted you.”

“Yeah, well, they think I can’t do anything with it and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Chris looked back to Derek and he shrugged. “Hajime confirmed that. They think he has no way to access his core because it’s visually based.”

“I’ll get back to that. You knew about this and that’s why you insisted that he was still in danger.”

“Of course. I figured it out when I investigated the apartment he was held in. And then I met with Alan Deaton and the information he gave me helped confirm it before I spoke to Stiles about it.”

Chris looked back to Stiles. “How precise is your control?”

Stiles let out an empty laugh, Derek not too fond of the sound. “There is no controlling a Beholder’s eyes. Just like there’s no predicting the future. You see, how it works is that I’m really smart and can figure shit out.”

“Meaning?”

“I’m the son of a sheriff and am curious as hell so I’ve grown up knowing the worst in people. When you know the bad that people are capable of, the good is easy enough to figure out. So, when I use my ability to see forward, I get glimpses, like a really slow strobe light going off. I get the impression and make my educated guesses as to context. Return to the same time forward again, I get a different impression. Then when I get close to the moment in real life, I get a wonderfully convenient feeling of déjà vu, just to know I’ve already been there but am as much along for the ride as anyone else.”

“Then what’s the point to there being Beholders if there is nothing you can do to alter what you see?”

“There’s always a point to cores? I always thought they just happened and we’re either the luckiest species on Earth or screwed to have to deal with them.”

“You really expect me to believe that the ability to perceive the future is all a matter of guesswork?”

“Hey! Educated guesswork, if you don’t mind. The rest of you that aren’t Beholders, you’re the ones limited to mere guesswork.” Stiles paused before he grinned and Derek wanted to roll his eyes at how much the younger man appeared to be enjoying this. “Admit it: the only reason you’re having trouble believing me is because everybody else makes a big deal about Beholders. But, fact of the matter is that we’re too rare and lose our minds too easily for anyone to really know better of what we’re capable of. Too much time is spent pussyfooting around us to actually figure anything out.” The humor faded and Stiles shoved his hands in his pockets, looking like he was sulking now. “Look, I’m not saying that there isn’t a risk here. If you can figure people out, understand their motivations and what kind of person they are, then having a Beholder around is pretty useful. After all, if someone is standing on a ledge with no one else around to influence their decision, there’s only two options: step forward or step back. A talented Beholder would be someone who could funnel the variables until it leads to less options and they could call which choice would be made with pretty damn good accuracy. I’m talking like ninety percent of the time, it would look like they could really see the future.

“Me: I’m a good Beholder, albeit with an assist from Lydia this time around. She picked up on the high likelihood of death I’d seen before and that was my tipoff to start funneling options.”

“And Hajime? Have you ever seen anything to do with him?” Chris surprised Derek by asking a question that actually took the focus away from Stiles to some degree.

“I only know what I’d hear when he came by the apartment, and that wasn’t much. But what I can figure is that he knows a lot, things that he really has no business knowing, including my disposition. I don’t think he has a Beholder on his side, but he could have enough other dispositions to make up the difference. And he’s got eyes on specific people, like things won’t work right without getting control of those people’s cores.”

“Including you?”

“As far as I can tell. Though that may be more attributed to the fact that he assumes I can’t use my abilities. Great Beholders can get a sense of when they’re in danger. But, again, I’m a good Beholder.”

Chris was silent for a few moments, thinking things over and taking it all in and Derek was grateful that the one in charge actually had a level head.

“I think Hajime knows all he needs to know about you. This didn’t happen and I have no idea what your disposition is.”

Stiles looked suspicious rather than relieved. “What, planning on getting little look-sees under the table for your generosity?”

Chris seemed to smirk, Derek not quite believing that he was seeing that expression. “I don’t know what you mean. You hold no interest to me outside your affinity with Derek since you have an undetermined disposition. Anyway, I’d like _some_ credit here: I’ve been a Deva for nearly twenty years without the help of a Beholder. What makes you think I want to rely on one now? I prefer reliable sources and from what you’re describing, Beholders aren’t.”

“And yet you took an anonymous call for my location.”

Derek didn’t know if he should be amused at the back and forth happening between a Deva Master and a civilian or irritated that Stiles seemed intent on getting on Chris’ last nerve about the whole thing.

“You don’t know who called it in. Doesn’t mean I don’t. But I’ll be asking you to just take my word on it: it was a trustworthy source. If this person called saying I needed every single Deva I held authority over at a certain location, I'd send them there without question.”

Stiles looked over toward Derek, his eyes again nearly accurate in their direction even though Derek hadn’t said anything in a while for him to get a sense of his location. “Didn’t Jackass say the order came down from the Prominents?” he asked and Derek smirked at Stiles’ continued expression of his opinion of the Deva Jackson.

“Yeah, along with the certainty that it was someone with the U.E.A. in Japan.”

Chris looked irritated that they knew that much. “So much for Whittemore being the one to send because he’d just get the job done. I assigned him because he tends to not ask questions.”

Stiles grinned back toward Chris. “Huh, and here I thought it was because of his winning personality. But you won’t give us anything else, I’m sure. Not if you don’t have to.”

“You aren’t one to give up easily. Why now?”

Chris had a good point that Derek was curious about as well but hadn’t planned on asking about because he figured Stiles would shut him down on answering. Stiles didn’t make a habit of explaining himself more than he had to and he’d given a lot of straight answers so far.

“Ah, you are but a single source, my young-old padawan, a questionable source at that. I’ll just look elsewhere. This is not giving up; this is playing it smart.”

Chris let out a heavy sigh, sounding tired. Derek could sympathize with that.

“Just don’t get yourself or my Devas killed. Honestly, I don’t care if you set yourself up as bait because of something you saw. You obviously tried what you could to keep the people I’m responsible for alive. Scott losing his eligibility as a Deva is unfortunate, but everyone is alive. That’s what matters. Things can get better as long as they are alive.”

Something in Chris’ voice was different when he said that. He sounded genuine, heartfelt, and it was moments like that where Derek saw how human he was that he felt that the man would make a good Prominent. He didn’t forget actions that people took and what Stiles had just done for the sake of the Devas and agents connected to him had obviously made an impression on Chris.

It was likely that Stiles had just made a true ally with Chris Argent without meaning to and without realizing it even now.

Oh well, Stiles claimed to be able to read people; if he didn’t figure it out, that was on him. Derek wouldn’t lie but he certainly wouldn’t spell it out for Stiles, no matter how much he loved him.

Chris turned to Derek, his expression and posture conveying he was back in an official mindset. “Consider yourself off for the next two weeks for the sake of the newly formed affinity balancing out. After that, we’ll conduct the standard evaluation and see what adjustments we need to make to your file for what assignments you can take on. In the meantime, you are welcome to continue using the facility for his training. We wouldn’t want all the time you and your team have put into making sure he could defend himself go to waste because you lapsed his practice. Any opposition would be hard pressed to get ground to oppose when he’s the one who killed two Oni targeting him. He keeps this up and we’re going to _have_ to give him a job to keep him out of jail.”

“Argent made a funny,” Stiles deadpanned and Derek couldn’t keep from rolling his eyes anymore. But Chris just glanced over to Stiles and then made his way to the door.

“The only thing I want to see of you for the next two weeks is the report for today and running into you at the hospital as long as Kira’s there. Take care of each other.”

And he left. That was it.

That felt strangely anti-climactic, Derek thought after a short pause recognizing that he’d expected it to be a much bigger deal. But then he figured that he was really the one who worked with less information. Chris had been an active Deva for a long time now and that was bound to mean things became less of a big deal at some point. And he hadn’t been unaffected, just recovered quickly.

“I just can’t get a handle on that guy,” Stiles suddenly admitted. “It’d be so much easier if he was the typical guy in charge that was all surly and followed the book to the ‘T’ for the sake of his career.”

“Really? _That_ would be easier to deal with?” Derek replied, just following along with what Stiles wanted to talk about as he tried to figure out what their next move would be.

“Well, yeah. I’ve got a whole script worked out in advance for someone like that. He keeps pulling this whole understanding thing and I don’t know how to handle that, not from a person in authority. It’s not very considerate of him.”

“We are lucky to have him be the one in charge over me. Not all Masters are like that. Others would have heard your disposition and would have been on the phone to update your status, activate all the safeguards they have for rare cores and your life would have taken a turn for the boring.”

“Right. Changed name, multiple legit identifications, regular relocation, the works of protective custody for certain dispositions.”

“Hajime mentioned having sights on an Ouroboros. They’re one of the dispositions required to receive that level of protection. Maybe that’s how he lost them.”

“I’d hope, otherwise that’s a lot for someone to give up just because they ended up with the wrong core.”

“It’s one of the things Argent doesn’t agree with and would make a priority to change if he ever makes Prominent. He doesn’t like forcing that level of control over someone who hasn’t done anything to deserve it.”

“Good. He can keep on thinking that and disagreeing that Scott shouldn’t be kicked out of the Devas because he’s a Chimera. Maybe then we’ll see some change since the Oni are apparently leaving us in the dust when it comes to progress.”

Stiles went quiet then and Derek turned to watch him for a little while. Something was different, he knew. There’d been enough little things to tell him that but he couldn’t figure out what it all meant because of the newness of the affinity. He was still getting used to the different scent of their cores having an active connection between them and that distracted him too much from being able to figure out if there was anything different in Stiles’ scent alone. He assumed that he would have a general heightened awareness of Stiles once the connection settled into its norm, but right now it was preventing him from figuring it out.

Frustrated, Derek let out a growl, startling Stiles into turning his head toward the sound, and then Derek asked, “What’s different with you? I know you’re still blind so why does it seem like you’re having an easier time making your way around? And you even directed your eyes right at Chris even though you’re across the room. You’re never that accurate when there’s distance and you’re not in a familiar room.”

Stiles just gaped toward him and he wondered if he’d ended up sounding…creepy about the whole thing. He hoped that wasn’t the case, that being around Stiles constantly for as long as they had been meant that a level of familiarity like that was expected. But even he admitted that it was a lot of details to have noticed about someone.

But then Stiles grinned and Derek figured he was about to regret saying anything for another reason.

“Aw, Sourwolf, I don’t know what to say. To think you picked all that up about little ol’ me is just so sweet and cuddly. Can we hug this out? I feel like hugging this out to show you all the warm fuzzies I’m getting knowing you know me so well.”

“Stiles, I’m not Chris,” Derek interrupted and Stiles went quiet. “Why don’t you want to tell me?”

“I was just buying time. I figured I could buy myself a whole week just talking over you. It tends to get most people to back off.”

“You’re irritating, I’ll give you that.”

“Hey!”

“But I’m not most people. It’s me, Stiles. And I love you and won’t back off.”

Stiles froze again and Derek thought it was only fair that he caught Stiles by surprise with that. As often as Stiles left him in the dust, it was only fair.

“Wow. Um, yeah. I mentioned that, didn’t I? Like out loud and everything. Where you could hear. Not that I’ve said it where you couldn’t hear. Not to other people anyway. Mostly at the mirror because people do that.”

If Stiles wasn’t going to give him an answer, he’d settle with a simple test that shouldn’t hurt him.

Derek stepped over to the table a few feet away and grabbed one of the magazines off of it and chucked it at Stiles.

Because Stiles could be talented when it came to hurting himself so he wouldn’t rule out the possibility completely that Stiles would end up bruised because he threw a magazine at him.

Stiles let out a short yelp and flailed to the side as he threw his arms up to cover his face. The magazine glided past his shoulder and thumped into the wall before flopping to the floor at Stiles’ feet.

It was definitely a panic response, but it was delayed and definitely hadn’t been a reaction to Derek throwing the magazine. Between Derek’s enhanced vision and his experience in watching people fight, he noted when Stiles started moving out of the way and it was when the magazine was about five feet away from him.

He hadn’t seen it because he was still blind.

Then again, Derek didn’t necessarily need to see a room to know what was going on in it when he wasn’t limiting his hearing and smell.

They’d established what Derek could do because of the affinity. And it looked like they now knew what Stiles had acquired out of the connection.

“What the hell was that?” Stiles shouted at him suddenly before he kneeled down and felt around his feet before finding the magazine. “Did you just chuck a magazine at me? You asshole! Sure, I talk a lot but a simple, growly ‘Stiles’ is usually enough to get a word in edgewise.”

Derek crossed the room in a few quick steps, kneeling in front of Stiles and reaching out to cup his cheek. Stiles was just barely starting to lean away, going quiet, definitely having noticed the motion at about the time he’d finished it. But there had been enough to see the same thing.

“Good to know you got something out of this,” he said evenly and watched as Stiles’ cheeks flushed a little.

“I really was buying time, you know,” Stiles muttered. “It comes and goes. And you’re right: I can’t see. But I know it’s there. My senses aren’t any better than they were before. Hell, my right ear is still ringing nonstop and will be for the next hour or so according to the Regen so my hearing actually really sucks right now. But it’s there, this awareness of what’s around me.”

Derek leaned forward to press a quick kiss to Stiles’ lips.

“Good. We can work with that.”

Derek kissed him again, Stiles curling toward him to deepen it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, only one chapter left to post!  
> Thank you for reading and I'll see you next time!


	15. Potential

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They look to the future, just like anyone else...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, hello there for the last time on this fic. Last chapter here. No more chapters for this fic.  
> It's always so weird when I get to posting the last chapter. I know when it's gonna happen because I don't start posting until I finish a fic, but it doesn't mean I don't get all nostalgic about it. And it's pretty strong with this one because there are some aspects within this fandom that were among the first ideas I had for the series as a whole. FEELS!!!  
> Thank you to everyone who has followed the fic all the way through and hope you enjoy the wrap up here. More notes concerning the series as a whole in the end A/N.

****

Derek had rendered Scott silent. That was strangely satisfying, he admitted. Sure, it wasn’t as much of an accomplishment as making Stiles silent, but it was a close second.

Actually, it wasn’t just Scott. Kira and Boyd were also gathered and in various states of disbelief.

Derek wondered if Stiles would…

“Oh, come on, guys! This is actually insulting! It’s not like you haven’t been working with me for the past few weeks getting me all sorts of combat ready!”

…make up the difference and make a big deal out of their silence.

“Working on your self-defense, not get you combat ready,” Boyd corrected.

“Potato, chili-cheese fries,” Stiles replied with a dismissive wave of his hand as he leaned back on the couch, crossing his arms behind his head in a show of exaggerated relaxation. Boyd looked confused before he seemed to remember who he was talking to and shook his head, dismissing it. Hell, that one even took Derek an extra second to figure out that Stiles was messing around the with “potato, po-tah-to” thing.

Derek took advantage of his spot right next to him and reached out to thump him on the stomach with his fist and Stiles huffed out as he grabbed where Derek had hit and then directed a glare back toward him.

He hadn’t expected it to be an easy sell to the ones who had gotten close to Stiles since he’d come into their lives about six weeks ago, especially considering they’d been keeping quiet about what Stiles had gained from the affinity, but he thought it was almost like they weren’t even considering they didn’t have all the facts.

“Stiles, you’re good in a fight, I’ll give you that. But you’re only good if they don’t land a solid hit, hits that you can’t see,” Scott said, sounding sad. And he probably was: he didn’t like finding limitations for Stiles because of his blindness. He genuinely wanted Stiles to have the same options as he did.

“Unless something’s changed,” Kira declared from her spot on the loveseat next to Scott, the two remaining close to each other since they’d arrived at Derek’s half an hour ago.

Actually, Derek had only seen one without the other once in the five days since the attack on the highway and that had been when he went to a meeting Scott had with Chris to be officially removed from the Devas and discussed his options.

As far as Derek knew, Scott hadn’t made a decision yet.

Derek didn’t blame him for taking his time.

“You could say that,” Stiles said with a grin.

“Well, you’re still blind, so that can’t be it,” Boyd said, just making an observation.

Stiles directed his eyes at Derek and asked, “Is there some sign I’m missing announcing that, or something? It’s like the first thing people comment on.”

Derek shrugged out of habit. “We’re trained to figure stuff out and we know you. What more do we need to tell the difference?”

“I don’t know, but you could give tact a try.”

“Did _you_ just say we should employ tact?” Stiles had been so morose for the past few days that it was good to see him somewhat close to normal. Derek hoped it was just a matter of him adapting to his new situation and that it wasn’t something he had wrong with Derek.

It hadn’t seemed like there was anything wrong between them, but Derek wasn’t exactly good at the whole relationship thing and was still figuring things out as they went.

“Hey, I have all the tact. I just choose to not use it. But you guys just go around throwing out ‘you’re blind’ at every turn like it’s a theme song. What if I had serious issues with hearing that all the time?”

“If you did, we wouldn’t say it. But you don’t, you’ve shown that you hate it when people treat you differently because of it, so we just say it. I’ve watched you mess with a cashier for ten minutes because he made some comment that you get around well despite everything. And you would have gone on longer if I hadn’t dragged you out of there.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, crossed his arms, and slouched further into the couch at the reminder. “His fault for being an ignorant dick. Too bad he wasn’t working again the next time I went back there: I’d really have given him something to be impressed about.”

“Hold on!” Scott interrupted. “No getting distracted here! Derek, you should know better.” Derek turned to Scott and gave him a flat look, which Scott looked momentarily nervous about receiving before he shook it off and kept going. “Don’t give me that look: you really should know better. But you call us here and say you guys are going to apply for Stiles to be taken on as a Deva consultant to accompany you on assignments and actually thought that would make sense? Maybe it’s been so long since you did anything besides paperwork and looking out for Stiles that you forgot you take assignments with a high likelihood of coming into contact with Oni. You’re one of the best fighters in the division because of being a born Shifter and you get assignments that compliment that.”

Derek raised an eyebrow at Scott and he shifted in his seat a little but managed to keep up his strong front.

“I didn’t forget my job, Scott. I’ve only been doing it for the past seven years. I also haven’t forgotten the requirements we have in place for consultants, just in case you were going to accuse me of that next.”

“Then why are you even trying to do this? Stiles doesn’t qualify for what you guys are going to be asking. He’d get in for something else, but not as someone who can work with you.”

“You sound so sure,” Stiles chided and Scott gave a long-suffering look toward Derek, probably since it would be wasted on Stiles.

“Stiles, we are aware that you are capable of a lot more than people give you credit for,” Boyd cut in. “But the fact of the matter is you aren’t good enough to stand next to Derek as a combatant. You may handle yourself very well in a dangerous situation…” Derek wanted to scoff at that: if what he’d learned about Stiles matched up, Stiles probably wouldn’t do much to protect himself if it came to it. He’d do what he had to, damn the consequences. “…but even you have to realize that you got in a lucky shot against that Oni. Your aim is completely dependent on Derek and your ability to fight dependent on them making contact with you first. That isn’t enough to be considered capable enough to be a consultant. The consultant program for the Devas is where we are allowed freedom in who we hire, but there is still a minimum requirement that has to be met. And the Devas don’t dismiss the person’s safety, make them sign some waiver that says they are responsible for any injuries. We retain responsibility for their safety and take the blame if they get hurt or killed because they are working with us.”

Derek crossed his arms. “I’ve already gone over all this with him, Boyd. And he’d already looked through all the documentation he could scrounge up a couple days ago.” Which had apparently included all the court cases that had come up between family members and the Devas because of injury or death of loved ones who had become consultants. It didn’t happen often because the Devas retained responsibility, but every once in a while there was someone looking for more.

The day Stiles had been going through those, using the text-to-speech software he relied on for at least half of what he looked up, Derek had made a standing rule that Stiles had to leave his room for late night research binges. Derek couldn’t sleep with that robotic voice droning on and it would have been worse for Stiles to use the braille pad, which was used the other half of the time. Stiles had literally spent the next two minutes sitting on Derek’s bed, silently debating if he wanted to keep on the roll of his reading or put it away to stay with Derek.

Kira suddenly sighed but she looked amused. “How long until you guys realize the easiest thing to do is ask them what’s going on? If you just tell them what they can or can’t do, they’re just going to keep telling you you’re wrong.” Derek allowed the corner of his lips to raise into a grin. That was Stiles’ method, without a doubt, and he’d been going along with it because he didn’t have a reason not to. They were all off for the day and had planned to go get something to eat once they finished up talking here.

It was strange to be making plans like that, figuring out something to do just for fun and sharing company with people he believed he was close to. Of course, it had been Stiles’ idea, saying that they needed to make sure they hung out with Kira now that she was given the all clear and okay to go back to work as well as with Scott so he didn’t turn into a hermit while deciding what he was going to do.

“We’re calling it a radius of awareness,” Derek began, mostly so Stiles wouldn’t keep messing with their friends.

Stiles interrupted before he could make any progress. “No, that’s what you’re calling it and I’m letting you get away with it because I haven’t thought of the ultimate name for it yet. I mean, just because that’s exactly what it is doesn’t mean we have to call it that.”

“And what’s it do?” Scott asked.

“It’s really cool actually, now that we got it mostly figured out. You guys all know that Derek gets all these superpower-level senses that he has to suppress to match other people because he’s a born wolf Shifter, right? And that makes him able to have a better awareness of what’s going on around him. In theory at least. His lack of patience with other people tends to get in the way of that and he ignores everything he deems unimportant and it’s actually sort of rude.”

“Stiles…” Derek said in a warning tone.

“Well that bleeds through our affinity. The awareness, not the rude.”

Stiles grinned as he went quiet, letting everyone take that in, which they all had varying levels of thoughtful expressions and Derek waited for the questions. Especially since he didn’t think Stiles actually explained it very well.

And that had likely been on purpose because that’s just the sort of mood Stiles was apparently in today.

Boyd was the first to reach the point of questioning them, “How exactly does it work?”

“Well, Derek has to be within about fifteen feet of me for our cores to be close enough that they’re exchanging discharge and that’s the range right now.”

“When the connection settles, I expect that distance to decrease,” Derek added. Right now with their connection so new, it was in a period of transition and their cores were more eager to reach for each other than they would later when it settled.

“Yeah, he says that but I’m hoping for it to be more. And I’m finding as many people saying what Derek does as there are ones who experience what I want so it’s just going to be one of those wait and see things.”

“You poor thing,” Scott threw out with a grin and Stiles responded with a glare in his general direction.

“Anyway! So he has to be within that distance of me and he can’t have his senses suppressed to normal human levels. The more freedom he allows them, the clearer my awareness is. He activated his Shift the other day and I felt like Daredevil, things were so clear. It was fucking awesome! Like I could see again without the pain.”

Derek barely managed to keep from facepalming at that, only because he was aware that he needed to not make it seem like Stiles had let something very revealing just slip to people who didn’t know his disposition. And that did seem to get past Scott, the other Shifter not as good about reading between the lines, but Boyd and Kira both seemed to realize that something significant had just been revealed. But they proved themselves to ultimately be good friends and let it go by unquestioned, letting Stiles continue in his excited rant.

“I can’t see, but you know that feeling you get when you’re close to something, like you just know it’s there even if you aren’t looking. It’s like that gets amplified and I just know. I know that something is coming at me. It only goes out about six feet around me, but that’s enough time for me to do something about it. And I can train and get even better. Derek and I have been doing some light sparring and I know when a hit is coming at me and where to throw something back to, I just need to practice and get better. I can fight, like really hold my own in a fight!”

Stiles’ enthusiasm was so contagious and Scott was grinning almost as wide as Stiles was, getting caught up in it with his friend. And Boyd and Kira both looked about as happy as they could be.

This meant a lot for Stiles and his situation with the Oni. It really was a game changer – as much as the affinity forming between him and Derek – and they all understood that.

They all understood that this one ability was the difference between him remaining under the protection of the Devas and being accepted as someone who could assist the Devas. And Stiles regaining his freedom in his life was the one thing Derek had wanted for him all along. This was something that Stiles was choosing to pursue. He wanted to be of some use to the Devas, to Derek, and this was how he was going to do it. Derek couldn’t find enough reasons to even attempt to dissuade him.

And that wasn’t even because he knew anything he tried just wouldn’t work. He really just didn’t see enough of an argument against it.

Stiles was already in danger by the Oni so doing something that would put him face-to-face with Oni wouldn’t make a difference. And it wasn’t like they were going to be facing off against ones that knew who he was and his disposition, at least it wasn’t guaranteed.

Besides, Derek knew the Devas. As long as Stiles proved himself capable enough, they wouldn’t deny his application and they didn’t have as much freedom as they would with any other applicant because of their affinity.

It was illegal to separate people with affinities less than a year old, whether that be by putting great distance between them or by keeping them apart for too many hours at a time. It was considered abuse because everyone knew that it would cause instability in the affinity, if not cause it to sever because it wasn’t a stable connection yet. So, as careful as the general public was in terms of respecting an affinity within its first year, the Devas were even more serious about it. They actively made sure nothing would damage that connection and Derek and Stiles agreed that the Prominents would likely be looking for every opportunity to keep the two of them together while not losing a skilled and experienced Deva like Derek.

Just about everything was working in their favor in this.

“What we need right now is people besides me to spar with him and help him get that practice,” Derek said, bringing them to the real reason they’d decided to even tell them before putting in the application.

“Because of the affinity, I’m too aware of Derek to really get much legit training in. I need to work with others so I can really make progress here and we can experiment some more on the current limits of this. Besides, either Derek doesn’t cut back on his power and he breaks my back with a flick to the forehead or he holds back and my awareness gets muted. It just doesn’t work all that well when we spar against each other.”

Boyd gave Derek an amused look. “So, we’re basically just doing what we were before, just a different kind of training. Easy enough. You guys are sure that this is what’s going on, though, right? It would really suck to start doing this and end up causing him brain damage because he keeps failing to dodge.”

“Easy enough solution there: if I don’t dodge, don’t hit me,” Stiles replied before Derek could.

“Nah, that’s not gonna work for me,” Boyd shot back with a smirk.

“You’re fired.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Derek, fire him!”

“Can’t; I’m not back on active duty yet. Oh, and I also won’t.”

Derek leaned away from Stiles as he swung his hand up to strike at him. “Bad boyfriend!” He straightened back in his seat as Stiles crossed his arms and slouched further into the cushion.

“Yeah, I’m horrible. So, can we count on you guys?”

“Hell, yeah!” Scott exclaimed excitedly. The level of glee on his face was enough to make him look younger and it was the first time in days that Derek had seen him not looking down or lost in thought and that was a relief. He wanted Scott to be okay as well after the sudden change of his life.

“Of course we’ll help out, Derek,” Kira confirmed with her own kind smile. “We were going to involve Erica in his protection, right?” Derek nodded. “I think we should still bring her in to be working with him. As a Plague, she’d be perfect for training learning evasion with. Sure, no one wants to take a solid hit from any of us, but for her to make contact with him means very real consequences that apply to all the dispositions that require physical contact to be effective. I think it will add another beneficial level to training.”

“Love it!” Stiles declared as he threw his arms up like he’d just won something, Derek having to lean away again to avoid getting an arm to the face. Stiles then turned toward Derek and mock-whispered, “Kira always comes up with the best ideas. She’s such a keeper and more than any of us deserve. Isn’t it so awesome that she chooses to like us?”

Derek enjoyed the flush that rose on Scott’s cheeks at that as Kira laughed.

Boyd looked serious as he asked, “So, this is a long haul?”

Derek thought over his response for a few seconds, but Stiles beat him to answering.

“The Sidhe, Hajime, he’s the one taking the lead on this, the one that actually knows why I’m being targeted. As long as he’s around and free to organize Oni like he is, that’s as long as I’m at risk. And it’s not just me. He’s going for rare cores, admitted that he’s got an Ouroboros in his sights and even I know the damage Oni did the last time they had someone who could pass cores around between people. At the very least, until Hajime’s taken out, we’re in this.”

Derek continued from there, “I’ve discussed it with Chris and if anything comes up involving Hajime, we’ll get priority assignment. He obviously likes to use other Oni to do the work and seems to get involved when there’s failure on their part. He only shows up in one other report from the U.E.A. in the last few years and there isn’t much to the report. There’s another report from about two years before that from the Devas that might be him but they never identified the Oni in that one so we can’t be sure.”

“What, so we’re going to be the specialists on Hajime?” Boyd asked.

“That’s what I’m aiming for,” Derek replied smoothly and honestly. “We all may have been in worse fights, but something about how things went down on the highway just makes me feel like this is something we need to pay complete attention to. This isn’t just a few tough Oni banding together and causing damage. Hajime is organizing something big and we need to be ready to stop him. The best way to help that succeed is to have a focused effort against him. Once I’m back on active assignment, I’m going to start going through all assignments and trying to build a database of likely accomplices within Oni we’ve faced against in the last five years. From there, I’m going to be working out any other Devas, U.E.A. agents, and civilian consultants to be a response force just for cases involving Hajime. And Stiles’ application as a consultant is going to include access to those files so he can be working on that as well. He’s good at picking things out that can be easily missed and might actually get us a solid lead.”

“You’re really sure that’s necessary? That’s a lot of work for one Oni, even when you help him out, Stiles,” Scott said. He wasn’t questioning as much clarifying.

“It’s necessary,” Stiles confirmed.

He and Stiles had talked about this a lot over the past few days and they were in agreement: Hajime wasn’t to be taken lightly. Stiles at one point had said that he didn’t need to look forward to know that this one Oni could be responsible for a lot of death. Just the fact that other Oni were apparently following him so easily proved that he was dangerous and worth all the attention they could give him.

Derek had to wonder at Hajime’s intentions in revealing his identity. Sure, he’d said that it wouldn’t matter because he didn’t have anything to trace but a name was enough. It gave them something to attach to him along with his appearance and dispositions.

What concerned Derek was if he’d given his name because he wanted people to know what to call the threat. It was something so far beyond ego or confidence and that was intimidating if it was the case.

“Got it. Well, let’s get started,” Scott was excited again.

“Monday,” Stiles corrected. “Derek’s still on break and if I’m not mistaken, we all agreed to go out for food and I’m starving.”

“I see: it’s only top priority as long as it doesn’t make you skip a meal,” Boyd said with a slight grin.

“I’ll sacrifice an hour or two of the ‘cause’ if it means good food. Why give Hajime the satisfaction of stealing meals?”

“Because I’m sure that’s his first priority,” Derek muttered, then had to once more lean away from a flailing limb from Stiles, though this one was also more accidental as he’d moved to stand up. He really needed to remember to sit just a little further away from Stiles when there was conversation happening. At least if he was messing with Stiles and inciting a retaliation, he usually had some means of easily handling it.

Derek followed behind him, ignoring the amused look from Boyd as Scott practically sprang to his feet and closed the short distance between him and Stiles, looping his arm around Stiles’ shoulders and directing him – needlessly – toward the door, launching into conversation about how cool Stiles’ new ability was. Derek stood as well and waited for Boyd and Kira to move toward him.

“You’re sure about this, Derek?” Boyd asked, some concern showing in his voice. “I’m not asking because I think Stiles isn’t capable. We all know that he’s an impressive person. But do you really want to commit him to a position that is putting him right in front of Oni regularly? Can you ensure that you’ll be able to make up the difference between his strength and yours?”

Derek looked over to where Scott had walked ahead of Stiles and had grabbed his shoes and Derek held in a smirk as the other Shifter tossed one shoe and then the other at Stiles, who fumbled them before they both fell back to the floor and Scott laughed, then rushed to grab them and then move away from Stiles for a repeat. Derek debated warning Scott that the mood Stiles was in today meant that if he actually caught one, he’d probably be either throwing them right back at Scott or beating the Shifter over the head with them – not that doing that would actually cause damage to a Shifter – but decided Scott needed to be able to fend for himself.

That was if Stiles actually got lucky and managed a catch. After all, Derek had felt that Scott had pulled his friend just outside beyond the limit of their affinity allowing Stiles to “see”. He was pretty sure Scott didn’t do it on purpose and had just forgotten that little aspect. If Stiles wanted to, he could tell Scott and it would likely make him feel horrible.

“I can’t guarantee anything, which is why we need to make sure he’s got as little need for me as we can possibly get. That’s the best we can do for him.”

He turned back to his friend to see Boyd cross his arms and give him an expectant look. “You didn’t actually answer me. I’m requiring an answer this time around.” And Kira looked just as intent on hearing what he’d say.

Derek let out a sigh. “No, I don’t _want_ to have this be what happens. But I don’t _want_ him to be on some Oni wish list either. I want him to be able to live the life he wants to live and not be limited to how we can best protect him. But since this isn’t about what I want and all about what needs to happen, it doesn’t matter. He needs to be able to protect himself because we will be facing off against Hajime again. We can give him that and he can help us against the Oni.”

“What we do doesn’t exist on a deadline, Derek,” Kira pointed out. “There’s never going to be a time where Oni aren’t a thing anymore. It’s as much human nature for people to act in a manner that designates them as Oni as it is for us to do what we can to help others against them.”

“I’m aware of that. But it doesn’t mean that what we do is pointless or a waste. We make a difference. Stiles believes that, so we should too.”

He didn’t know if this had been him genuinely needing to convince either of them about any of this, but he saw that they heard him out and accepted it. They were in the same boat as him, after all. They were all on this same side of human nature and they would continue to do their part in the fight that would never end.

Because Kira was right and there would always be those who saw cores as tools of power and control and those who utilized cores to protect others.

Derek believed in the side he chose to stand on, had seen plenty of the carnage that resulted in being on the other side. That belief was important, he knew.

But he was realizing that he had to believe just as much in the other people he shared company with being on this side. From the Deva Prominents to Masters like Chris Argent down to Devas actively taking assignments and facing against the Oni to agents of the User Enforcement Agency, all the way to every civilian whether or not they had a core. All of them mattered and deserved to be protected against the selfish searches for more power that defined the Oni.

So, yes, Derek believed in all of that. And he believed in the still new connection between him and Stiles. It was the first one he’d had with someone since his family died and that felt right. He knew more would follow now that he’d opened up, but that the first one was with Stiles was important.

He would do everything to protect it, to protect Stiles, whether Stiles wanted it or not.

They had everything they needed to move forward.

Though, if he happened to come across some sort of help desk or instruction manual for Stiles, he wouldn’t be opposed. As much of a handle as he’d gotten on the intensity of Stiles’ personality, he figured any help he could get would be appreciated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANK YOU FOR READING!!!!!!! Seriously, whether you have been keeping up since I posted the first chapter or if you waited until it was complete to read it all, I appreciate you. Whether you commented (love you commenters!), left a kudo (kudos are as exciting as comments to me), or just silently enjoyed the fic at any level (seriously, it's okay to silently enjoy a fic and don't let other people tell you different), I appreciate you. If you give the other fics in the series a shot, even if you don't know the fandom, I REALLY appreciate you because I know that the fandom of a story greatly impacts interest and I'm taking a HUGE chance by including some of the fandoms I'm including. But they're the fandoms I love and that's why I want to write them.  
> Speaking of, all the fandoms I have planned to include in this series are: No. 6 (anime/manga), Only the Ring Finger Knows (Japanese novel/manga), YurI!! on Ice (anime), Spartacus (TV Show), Glee (TV Show), and of course Teen Wolf. I have not had the inkling to include any more yet. So, if any of these fandoms are ones you've enjoyed as well, you can look forward to them being included in the series.  
> I have an overall plot that connects the series that focuses on Hajime. However, I am not limiting myself to stories only concerning that plotline. That means that I am actually completely open to prompts or ideas from you guys about a side story you might like to see explored with specific fandoms. Maybe seeing a conflict or meeting with another character that I didn't get to include here as long as I don't have it planned for a future fic in the series. So, I welcome "what ifs" from you and would love to see this universe grow beyond what I have planned.  
> Thank you again for all the hits, kudos, comments, subscriptions, and bookmarks. I'm glad the fic was enjoyed and I look to returning to these guys because there is literally no one like them.  
> See you guys next time!  
> Kira Dattei

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading chapter 1.  
> This fic is completed and I will be posting on a once-a-week schedule, so I look forward to posting next chapter and continuing this ride with you.  
> If you have any questions, feel free to ask and I will answer anything that won't become clearer through the story.  
> Disposition Glossary (only ones showing up in the fic because I literally have detailed over a hundred for the world):  
> Shifter: user can modify their body’s structure to take on characteristics of an animal species. Core can form in utero and affects the abilities of the user  
> Beholder: allows user to perceive past events and possibilities for the future  
> Wraith: uses physical contact to disrupt the connections between others and their cores  
> Reaper: creates an awareness of other people’s death  
> Projector: uses physical contact to plant visual and auditory hallucinations  
> Berserker: core enhances strength, stamina, reflexes, senses, and recuperative aspects of the body for a limited amount of time  
> Valkyrie: enhances baseline strength and reflexes while allowing bursts of further increases to these aspects when the core is accessed  
> Nova: affects density in the air or in objects  
> Dragon: controls an element through physical contact with that element. Secondary designations are given to specific elements  
> Elemental: controls and element through physiological motions. Secondary designations are given to different elements  
> Sidhe: controls wind  
> Titan: controls earth  
> Regen: accelerates healing
> 
> See you next time!


End file.
